


A Lasting Silence

by QweenBeen



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: Ancient History, Assassin's Creed (Video Game), Assassination, EXPLICIT CHAPTERS WILL HAVE WARNING, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Historical References, Interrogation, Killing, Maps, My First Fanfic, Mystery, Original Character(s), Riddles, Romance, Sexual Tension, Sibling Rivalry, Smut, Victorian, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QweenBeen/pseuds/QweenBeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the Assassin/Templar war is an old one, and for those of us who love the games, maybe even a slightly repetitive one with Pieces of Eden and Grande Temples around ever corner. </p><p>What if something bigger is waiting out there that'll change the way we see this war? That could change the tide, break the deadlock and rewrite the course of their bloody history?</p><p>With a little death,  destruction,  romance (bit o' first attempt smut) and mystery, this is my first FanFic ever. Using historical fact as a central theme and just having fun writing! </p><p>New minor baddies, original male and female character,  and of course, more Evie and Jacob. :) Thanks to Ubisoft for creating our canvas to work on! </p><p>Thanks so much for reading!</p><p>Warning: This thing is turning into a large novella!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Silence

There was a quiet tonight. Not the kind from too much tension, like a string stretched too tight, waiting to snap. Not the kind that fell across their sleeping train in the dead of night, with just the sound of the steam engine and vibration of the tracks beneath as it wound it's way around the city.

It was actually peaceful here, atop of St. Paul's Cathedral. The sounds of London were so far below, so muted, it could've been under meters of water and he'd never realize. He wasn't used to this. He was always in the thick of things, waiting for the next fight, the next taunt, the next kill. If an hour passed without him firing his gun, he was sleeping on his none too comfortable couch on the train. He should look into a legitimate bed one of these days. Maybe tack on a whole new car just for the purpose.

No. As he waited for Evie up on this man made mountain of a building, he could hear himself think for the first time in too many weeks. The pulse of the city was under his fingertips as they rested on the steel dome. The air whispered and blew at his hair and he drew in a deep breathe, just enjoying it.

"Can't even manage to stay awake waiting for me, brother?" Evie's singalong teasing voice came up from his right as she pulled herself up beside him, gracefully turning and sitting down at his side.

He hadn't even realized he'd had his eyes closed. He never let his guard down, even way up here where only his sister or another assassin could reach him quickly. Even his sister's quiet approach wasn't subtle enough for his keen hearing, yet she had snuck up on him anyway. Must have something to do with that thick silence...

He inwardly shook off the unnerving feeling of vulnerability, and quirked an eyebrow and the side of his lips up in a sarcastic smirk he knew he wore well and often.

"Some days I admire your stealth approach for our devilish deeds, sister," a hint of teasing in his inflection, "but I still think a few brutish Rooks and a gun would've made quicker work of it." He faked a stretch as if he'd actually just awoken and spoke through a yawn. "As it is, you've bored me to sleep for the first time. Congratulations."

Evie rolled her eyes at him and pulled out a long thin tube, the kind that held scrolls of parchment. It was well crafted, with gold filigree and metal fastenings. Admiring it reverantly for a moment as she held it in both hands, she then pointed it at him scoldingly. "You, Jacob Frye, would have found some exceedingly out of the ordinary way to destroy this."

"I?! Why, Evie, how little you must think of me!" At a sceptical look from her as she tucked it back into her coat. "I would've found a perfectly normal way to destroy it, thank you. I can't even imagine why you went out of your way for that thing."

If there was one thing that ruffled Evie's feathers, it was the nonchalant ignorance he pretended to have about the history she found so vital and fascinating. On more than one occasion, he actually thought she would deck him. Good thing she didn't favor brass knuckles. Particularly when he feigned ignorance about Ezio Auditore.

"For your information, this may actually be the most valuable piece of information on our ancestors and the Templars that we've ever come across." Her matter of fact tone of voice and the slight quiver at the end wiped whatever smirk off of his face. She wasn't playing around.

He decided to pretend not to notice and stood up to dust off his coat tails. Jacob started to make his way back down the cathedral, Evie following close by. "What is it that makes you so sure it's the be all - end all?" He asked, as casually as if they were strolling through a park, and not climbing down a gargantuan building with ease.

"I never said that it was the 'be all - end all', Jacob. It's a map that carries more knowledge about who we are and what the hell we've been doing for centuries."

Her voice carried the fervor and passion that could convince anyone of the dire import of the cause. Whatever cause.

"For centuries, assassins have been just chasing after these pieces of eden, hoping to stay one step ahead of the templars. We need to know more about where these pieces came from, and maybe then we can know how to stop their source of power."

"And you think that scroll will help you find that?" He couldn't help the scepticism in his voice, and Evie noted it.

"I think it's the beginning of the end. It has to be..." She almost spoke the last part to herself, as if convincing herself that it must be true.

They had stopped their descent to admire the view of the full moon glimmering on the rooftops of London, everything bathed in a silvery ghostly glow.

"So if this…thing," gesturing to her hidden pocket, "is so precious, why didn't any of our predecessors find it before now? Who are _we,_  Evie? Compared to them, we're just small fry. Get it? Small? _Frye_?" He grinned widely at her responding grimace.

He knew his fair share about Altair and Ezio, a bit more about Edward Kenway and his traitorous son, and they all seemed larger then life. They were so magnified by their great deeds that it seemed unheard of that his sister, his very own twin, had found something so important when the others hadn't.

Evie seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she suddenly grew very solemn. She knew one hundred times their Assassin history than he did, so the weight must have beared down heavily on her.

He tried to turn the conversation a little lighter as he watched her expression. Nudging her with an elbow, he teased, "I bet there was some lock or mechanism or riddle that no one but you could solve, right? We were all just big oafs until you came around," and he finished it off with a wink.

Evie just heaved a large sigh and fingered the scroll through her coat, suddenly casting her eyes up to the heavens and the billions of stars above.

"There was something, Jacob," she whispered. Her voice was low and distant, and she closed her eyes, as if to remember. "I don't know if I can explain it, but I'll try."


	2. The Orb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Evie came across when she got her hands on the mystery scroll. 
> 
> A little spoilery about in game characters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading my first short story!

It was a nondescript house in Westminster, with a view overlooking St. James' Park. Which meant it was a beautiful beast of a home. Quite unnecessary in fact, as she watched the glittering lights of the three story mansion go out one by one.

The rose gardens and oddly shaped hedges? Who deigned to bother with such things? And it wasn't a church, so why the ugly gargoyles? It was such an odd thing to her, so while she crouched in the darkness, killing time until the house was pitch black, she had a chance to criticize every nook and cranny.

And found the perfect point of entry in the process.

Poorly paid sentries already lazed about at their posts on the outside of the building, so the better paid ones were likely standing guard close to the vault. Her best chance was through a rather lude hedge of a satyr urinating a stream of roses....Who in God's name came up with _that_?

_Oh, Mr. Stanton. I hope your choice in hedges doesn't reflect your choice in artifacts._

Edward Stanton was perhaps one of the lesser known associates of the late Lucy Thorne. He lead her research and acquisition teams across Europe and Asia to chase down Pieces of Eden. The information about the shroud was one of his many gifts to her, but there were even more gifts that Stanton kept for himself.

An archeologist at heart, and a Templar by nature, Thorne had provided him with every resource at her's and Starrick's disposal to scour the world. Some of what he found was only research, clues leading to more clues. Not unlike Evie's now stale search for the lock to the key she now held.

Stanton was a shrewd and smart business man too, and never divulged all of his knowledge at once, lest he needed leverage. His latest findings had piqued the interest of Thorne, per the paperwork Evie had scavenged from her desk, _and_ had interested Henry too.

Henry had come to her, completely unaware of Thorne's own interest, and had mentioned some new document that Stanton had acquired in Istanbul. Henry's spies there had assured him the security had been supremely tight on the caravan and boat all the way to London. To corroborate this, Thorne's own notes said a map from Istanbul was in Stanton's possession, perhaps with information more vital than anything they'd seen so far.

So here she was, curiosity having gotten the best of her. Whatever it was, if the Templars wanted it, they probably shouldn't have it. They were simple rules to live by. It was simple enough to take it off their hands as well.

A large grate was visible behind the relieving shrubbery and if Evie knew her vents, it was there to allow air in and out of an enclosed space. If she was lucky, it lead directly to the vault and she may not need to step foot in the rest of the house. If she was even more lucky, the designers never anticipated a small woman being able to crawl through it and her way would be clear.

After a few quick screw turns and locks picked, Evie, crawled inside the dark space, carefully and quietly closing the grate behind her. The guards outside had been none the wiser and she was glad to not have to kill them for once. As she climbed through the vent, the steep inclines and declines worries her as she tried to make as little noise as possible. The sound of thin metal popping beneath her echoed excruciatingly loud from where she was, but when she'd look through a small grate in the vent to see if anyone heard, all was silent and empty below her.

The system was apparently connected to numerous rooms and Evie made more than a few wrong turns. If she wasn't mistaken, the master of the house, Edward Stanton himself, was having a tumble with a very noisy woman.

Her frustration was starting to become palpable, until finally she saw a grate with a massive padlock. What in the world would a padlock do if someone got this far?

Her question was quickly answered as she looked directly down beneath the grate. Raise the alarm. A guard stood at full attention right where he'd be able to hear every move she made. Even if she was a quiet as possible, the padlock clicking open would be enough to get his attention.

Blowing a piece of untucked hair up out of her eyes in annoyance, she gingerly reached into her coat and pulled out a small throwing knife. Her wrists were small but not small enough to fit through the grate and give her the leverage she needed to throw the blade. She'd have to do this with her fingers. Or use her dart gun.

She ran the risk of the knife not falling hard enough into the top of the guard's head, but if she used a hallucinogenic, the guard would throw a fit in the vault and bring unwanted attention before she had time to take him out.

Finding a happy medium, Evie started to work the padlock in front of her. She felt the bolt about to slide and shot the dart at the guard through the grate. There was always a three to five second delay before the effects took hold and that's all that Evie needed. She immediately unlocked the grate and just as the guard was ready to rage, she hopped down onto him and stabbed him in the back of the neck.

Easy. The heavy drop of their bodies didn't seem to attract any notice as she crouched still for a minute and listened.

When she stood up, she started assessing her surroundings. The lights were covered up in fireproof lanterns throughout the large metal interior, so in case one fell, it would immediately go out instead of spreading. Wise. But it did make the space dim and dark.

I'm spite of this, she saw perfectly with her extra sense and started working her way through the aisles and aisles of metal cabinets and drawers. Each had its own locking mechanism, some consisting of number dials, others with just plain padlocks. She figured the level of security was based on the contents.

She wasn't sure what level of importance the document was to Stanton, and she didn't quite know where to start.

But as she walked, she noticed that more smaller, squared drawers were towards the back of the vault. Long thin compartments for scrolls, perhaps? She started to read the labels carefully, and noted one dated not a month past.

The locking mechanism looked complicated. There were ten dials, a combination of letters and numbers, and she had no idea where to start or what would happen if she forced it open. She scanned the drawer above and smiled that it was just a padlocked compartment. Opening it quickly, she peered down past the fully extended drawer to look into the drawer below.

_Damn_. The top of the drawer was covered too, so she couldn't reach in and grab the scroll from above. She tried to lean in further to see the mechanism than locked the drawer, but the one above was limiting her view and she couldn't pull it out all the way.

She was being a bit too leisurely about the whole thing, given her location. She had hoped to get in and out without having to leave a mark, and then perhaps Stanton wouldn't have caught on until months from now. Unfortunately, the dead guard had spoiled that illusion early on, so she shook off any qualms about making a mess and started using her blade to leverage out the drawer.

She was on the verge of thinking her incredibly strong assassin's blade would snap with the force, but at the last second the drawer popped out and she nearly crashed into the line of cabinets behind her.

Catching and steadying herself, hoping the metallic sound hadn't gotten anyone's attention, Evie opened the fully enclosed drawer and pulled out the intricate scroll container.

And the world suddenly shifted. Her breathe was sucked out of her lungs the instant she touched it, and the vault around her melted away, as if it were nothing but hot wax. In a moment she was standing in a white space, no floor beneath her and no walls around her. She stood in nothingness.

Before her eyes, a small gold orb the size of a marble started to expand rapidly until it was three times her height and spinning with incredible speed. Evie stepped towards it and the orb started to take on clearer detail as its spinning began to slow. She started to see a miniature gold topography, mountain ranges and valleys, rivers and islands. Even the great expanse of oceans was a beautifully molten gold texture that looked like small waves.

Earth. And it was unlike anything Evie had ever seen before. It was massive, so the entire continent of Africa was taller than she was. She walked around it slowly and saw details she wasn't sure was on any modern map.

Since her feet were towards the bottom of the African continent, she reached down to see the land mass that was further beneath that. As soon as her fingers came close to the orb, the image moved. She pulled her hand up and the entire globe rotated so she was now looking at the bottom of the planet. It was a massive land mass, but unlike anything she had ever seen before. If this was the Antarctic continent, it was littered with mountains and streams where she would have expected to see smooth sheets of ice and snow. Or a solid chunk of gold in the case of this globe.

She then used both her hands and made a downward motion, imagining the globe would shift north, which it did. It was a completely interactive representation of the world, and Evie had it at her fingertips.

She found England and fiddled around with the island for a second before moving her hands away from eachother as if peering between curtains, and the map zoomed in. Soon she was directly over London, seeing a golden city from the heavens.

Well, it was where London should be. A stranger cityscape lay before her, one with tall thin buildings forming concentric rings around a central hub, like a bullseye.

As she watched, lines of bright silver starting radiating out of the center of the city. Within a few moments, so many lines were crisscrossing the planet that she had to take a step back to take it all in. Where multiple lines converged, other bullseyes appeared. France and Italy were the only two locations she could be sure of, but Africa sprouted a few and the Americas showed dozens more.

Awestruck by its beauty and magnificence, Evie lost all sense of time and space. She lost all sense of her own being. So much so that the loud crash in the vault was a distant pindrop.

Awakening, as if from a dream, the orb shrunk, disappeared, and in an instant she was stumbling back into the world. She had lost all motor control and had fallen backwards while in that vision. She'd made a racquet and now she heard shouting from outside the vault door.

If she went through the vent, they would know it and gang up on her outside when she reached the opening. She'd be absolutely vulnerable crawling out of a vent on her hands and knees.

She tucked the scroll container deep in her coat pocket and prepared to take a stand. As soon as the heavy vault door opened, the first three guards at the door received throwing blades between the eyes. They're bodies immediately blocked the doorway for the guards behind, and Evie quickly leapt over them.

Her heart raced and adrenalin pumped through her as she slashed and blocked with her cane sword, driving her gauntlet into necks that were too close for the sword, and throwing knives at more distant guards when she found her opening.

Overall, roughly eleven guards and ten minutes later, she was crashing through the nearest window, shoulder first and arms protecting her head. The guards outside had heard the commotion and were waiting for her on the ground below.

She quickly threw a smoke bomb as soon as she landed and was gone, zip lining up the roof and bounding across the various lavish homes surrounding Stanton's.

Overall, that had decidedly _not_ gone as planned.


	3. Ley Of The Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob and Evie bring her find back home. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

"You're right. You shouldn't have tried to explain it."

When Evie had finished recounting her story, Jacob knew he wasn't hiding his astonishment very well. He had only just decided to close his mouth after all.

"I thought you might not believe me," she muttered and she continued down the cathedral.

Jacob could only follow behind her and try to make up for what he said. "It's not that I don't believe you, Evie," he called down to her. "I just don't know if you saw what you think you saw. I mean...,"and he fumbled for countless words that were rattling in his head, "what you saw doesn't make sense. It doesn't exist! It sounds like magic." He considered something for a moment. "Sure you didn't knick yourself with that dart?" He just barely avoided the fist sized stone that Evie pelted at him. "You never know!"

"I didn't knick myself! I know what I saw! I manipulated the thing. And it's somehow connected to this scroll. As soon as I touched it, it happened. When we get back to the train, you'll see. " She made it sound like a threat. "Henry will believe me."

"I never said I didn't believe you." Now he was just exasperated.

"And magic, Jacob? What do you think anyone who sees a Piece of Eden, who isn't a Templar or Assassin, thinks it is? Magic! Or God. Because they don't know any better. But we know better, and I know what I saw."

Jacob knew she was right but didn't think he needed to say it out loud. Instead, he conceded by asking her more questions as they headed in the direction of their train.

"So just describe it again. A great big map then? Made of gold and silver?"

He heard Evie heave a sigh and saw her nod. "I don't know what each of the points meant, or the lines--."

"Or the places? You said London wasn't London? "

"No, it was... someplace else. But right here."

"The Ones Before, then? "

"It would have to be, wouldn't it?" She was suddenly very short with him and sounded annoyed. She appeared to regret it almost immediately, but as they leapt the rooftops towards their hideout, Jacob decided he'd asked enough questions.

They entered through Jacob's car, empty and dark and hopped into Evie's which always had a warm glow coming from the fireplace. Henry had fallen asleep in her soft cushioned chair, and he now awoke to the sound of their approach.

"Evie." He sounded drowsy but came fully alert when he saw her place the scroll on her desk. "What do we have here?" He stepped close to her, a _I like pressed flowers_ close, as Jacob liked to tease her. Henry whistled quietly, admiring the intricate detailing of the case that contained the scroll. "You got it," he whispered admiringly.

"Yes, and you'll never guess what else." Evie had a renewed enthusiasm and her eyes sparkled as she recounted the evening to Henry. Jacob unceremoniously plopped into her chair with his limbs splayed and his head tilted back.

Henry was just as thunderstruck as Jacob had been, his mouth opening to ask a question, but then promptly snapping shut as he thought better of it. Jacob didn't really care for thinking before he said things. Too much energy.

Evie seemed to appreciate Henry's reaction better than Jacob's and waiting expectantly for him to say something when she finished.

"Well, Evie...." He was careful now and chose his words wisely. Boring. "I don't honestly know what to think." Henry glanced at the scroll and eyed it carefully. "And you haven't seen the vision since?" She shook her head. "Have you opened it to see the parchment?" Again, she shook her head and blushed as if admonishing herself for having forgotten such a simple.

Henry heaved a sigh and looked relieved. "Well, let's start there, shall we?" He gestured for Evie to do the honors, and very gingerly, she unscrewed the gold filigree cap and gently set it down.

Jacob stood up to stand between them as an old rolled up piece of animal skin slid out into Evie's ready hand. It appeared to be damaged around the edges, ragged and dark brown from too much handling. Evie gently slid down the gold ring that kept it rolled tight and unfurled a map.

As she laid it flat on the table, Jacob saw Evie and Henry give each other a knowing look. Jacob slowly leaned forward and peered at it from between their heads.

It was most certainly a map. It showed the coast of Africa to the east, South America to the west, with the Atlantic Ocean smack in the middle. Jacob cocked his head, trying to make out the little pictures he saw. Numerous ships sailed along the water and coasts, and little animals were drawn on either continent. And was that two people holding hands in Brazil? How nice for them.

"It's a map." Stating the obvious was one of his finer skills.

Evie smirked and Henry's smile widened into a grin. "Not just any map, Jacob. A map drawn by the great Explorer and later cartographer, Piri Reis, in 1513." Evie had a way of knowing things that boggled Jacob's mind.

"Is that so?" He still didn't see what was quite do special about it.

"It's been lost since 1513, Jacob." Evie's voice sounded shallow, like she was trying to speak while holding her breathe. "Piri himself was a Master Assassin with the Ottoman Brotherhood. Ezio made more than a few mentions of him during his later years."

She now leaned in to admire it closely, her gloved fingers hovering around the coast lines of Brazil. "His level of detail back then was exquisite," she whispered. "This is amazing."

Jacob cocked an eyebrow and turned his head from left to right, searching Henry's and Evie's reverent expressions for some sort of explanation. Or for them to otherwise burst out laughing that he'd fallen for their joke. When neither was forthcoming, he ventured to ask some obvious questions.

He backed away from the map and unstoppered a decanter of brandy from Evie's bed stand. "So Henry," he started as he poured himself two fingers of the dark amber liquid, "did you suspect that this was what was so important to Thorne and..." He had already forgotten the other bloke's name.

"Edward Stanton," Henry filled in. "And no. I had my suspicions when my men said they were tracking it from Istanbul, but it would've been too much to hope it would be this."

Jacob took a hearty sip and gestured to the map with his glass. "So what's so special about this map?"

"We don't know, that's just it." Neither of them were looking at him, but Henry at least replied. "We know Piri created it, but it was soon lost. Ezio and Piri parted ways in 1511, so he didn't have much to say about it."

"Okay…. " Jacob thought he was getting somewhere. Old map and now no point to old map. "So why are you both drooling over something that may or may not be special?"

It was Evie's turn to answer and she turned from the map to look at her brother, while Henry continued to peer down at it. "Reis did other maps too, Jacob. Ones that have proven to be very accurate. One of these was a map of Europe and on it, he had indicated seven locations. So far, five of those locations have been discovered to be Temples of the First Ones."

Jacob was taken aback. "Where?" His knowledge of the First Ones was limited but he knew enough to know they were the ones who left behind Pieces of Eden, and they had a love for enslaving mankind. They typically weren't his favorite subject.

"Not near here. Or anywhere in Europe in fact. They've been discovered in Africa and Asia mostly." Evie gestured to the map behind them. "If that map proved to be correct, there's a good chance this map could help us too."

"But help with what? How do you know what to look for if you don't even know _what_ you're looking for?"

He was growing increasingly disgruntled at these intellectual types. He polished off the rest of his brandy in one burning gulp while Evie seemed to consider something. She was silent for some time.

Jacob shrugged, giving up trying to understand this latest of mysteries, and was about to hop onto his own car for some rest, when Evie spoke up.

"I know what I saw, Jacob. And it had something to do with this map. It was like...." Now Evie was at a loss for words. "They were like connections, like a web. And each point, where many connections met, was significant. Powerful, even. "

Evie now quickly glanced at the map and seemed to realize something. Jacob now stepped closer and sensed that his sister and tuned into her sixth sense.

He looked at the map, curious now, and did the same. He was half expecting to see the great big gold globe Evie had experienced, but the room around him stayed the same. It was the map that glowed a bright gold now.

As Jacob leaned in, he saw silver lines, like fine threads, crisscrossing the shimmering parchment skin. It was exquisite and he felt himself leaning in to touch them before Evie slapped his hand away.

Her voice sounded like it was underwater when they turned on the extra sense, but it was enough to get his attention. "Look." She pointed to the various corners of the parchment and he noticed very fine numbers written close to the edges. Some were cut off as the skin had worn away, but they looked just like coordinates.

Henry's voice resounded through their senses as he interjected. "Evie, can you write down what you're both seeing right now?"

Jacob turned off his sense and looked up at him, as did Evie. The question in both of their eyes prompted him to continue. "There is an old family in London who could help. In fact, they are the ones who excavated the last two Temples in the past century or so. They know Piri well, and I'm sure they'd be willing to offer their assistance."

Evie sat down at the table and Jacob flopped back into the chair. "Whatever those coordinates are, there's a reason only Evie and I can see them," Jacob said. "Do you really think it's wise to use _normal_ ink and show the world?"

"It's not the world, it's one person. And I trust them. Let me get you an audience and you can decide for yourselves."

Evie and Jacob glanced at each other skeptically and Henry read between the lines. "They can keep secrets," he reassured. "They have a big one of their own."


	4. The Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a short story without a party? Evie and Jacob dress in their best for their meeting with Henry's contact. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"Evie, we have _got_ to talk about the hovels you bring us to." Jacob twisted his face into a grimace as he tilted his top hat forward.

The three story manor before them glittered like a jewel, full of light, elegant music and the steady roar of conversation. The surrounding gardens and grounds were cast in a warm glow that created a dreamy halo effect. The facade was clean red brick with a beautiful four white pillar porch and balcony at its center. Perfectly rounded rose bushes neatly lined the front of the house, and continued their way down the walking path to where Jacob and Evie stood at the street.

Jacob had replaced his more worn and comfortable coat and vest combination with a slim fitting black frock coat, grey silk vest and shiny, uncomfortable new shoes. Even his battered but tasteful top hat was replaced by a brand new one with matching grey band.

Overall, he felt spanking new and _snug_ and it was driving him mad. Evie had insisted he tuck in his shirt all the way , and he couldn't help but continously tug at his cuffs and roll his broad shoulders to try and loosen up the arms. If it came to a fight, he'd rip right through these seams in an instant.

Evie, of course, was a chameleon. When she couldn't blend into the shadows, she just as skillfully blended into this aristocratic mess of bodies. Her gown and bodice accented the same grey and black of his own ensemble, following the curves of her shapely figure and billowing out in silken cascades of fabric. Her fair skin practically glowed against the dark cloth.

He knew she was stunning and his primal brotherly instinct made him glare at every man who stared too long as they walked to the door.

Of course she seemed to enjoy every second of it, smiling and sliding her hand into the crook of his arm as they made their way down the path to the house. The sounds of haughty laughter and ladies twittering surrounded them on all sides. Jacob had to keep from recoiling. He started pulling at his tight white collar, wedging his finger between the stiff fabric and his neck.

"Stop fidgeting, dear _brother_ ," she said in mock haughtiness. "Act like you belong here," and she nodded at a handsome man beside her who gracefully tipped his hat to her.

"I'm not fidgeting, dear _sister_ ," he whined, glaring at the man who promptly turned away. "I'm afraid you ordered these new clothes too tight and I'll bust at the seams."

"That's because you're actually wearing something that _fits_ you," she whispered fiercly. "You were not about to get away with hovering on the roof while I came in here alone. We need to meet Mr. Murdoch _together_."

"I would have been with you in _spirit_ , you know. Or we could have met _after_ the party, right? Or a day when there wasn't a party at _all_? Or, hey, how about not even at his _house_!"

Evie shushed him quickly, and a few guards at the side of the path glanced in their direction. Evie nodded to them with a sweet smile which was enough to disinterest them.

She whispered sternly in Jacob's ear now. "Henry needed us to set our sites on some Templar targets for him. Eavesdrop, rub elbows. He did us a favor, and now we're returning it. _That's_ a business arrangement."

Jacob barked a very ungentlemanly laugh. "I think Henry wants to _arrange_ you for more than just _business_. Ouch!" He put on his best wounded face and rubbed his ribs.

Jacob heaved an exasperated sigh and pulled himself a little straighter. It was in as much resigned defeat as it was to get the strain of the tight fabric off his back.

He found some consolation in knowing he himself cut a dashing figure beside his sister, even if he had decided to stay unshaven. Although his preferred brand of revelery included fist fights and barrels of ale, he'd prove Evie wrong and play the little bratty nob for the night. And he'd have fun doing it, _damnit_.

"So any idea when we'll be introduced to His Most Revered Excellency? And what's this great big secret of his anyway?"

They neared the massive double doors to the house and joined the streaming, well dressed throng making their way inside. He caught glimpses of a gleaming white marble floor and a glittering chandelier. The light danced off the crystals and made the whole main entrance sparkle like a jewel. The music wafting in through the nearby ballroom only added to the effect.

As they stepped inside and looked around them, they both seemed to loose track of the conversation. They had never been surrounded by such extravagant wealth and it seemed entirely unfair that one person should have all of this.

The walls were beautiful panels of rich mahogany, and the main entrance they'd stepped into featured a double marble staircase that curved to join a swooping balcony up above them.

The sparkling light bounced off of the paintings and marble statues that stood around the perimeter of the space, giving the sense that they were in a museum rather than a private residence. His senses already dutifully awed and battered, Jacob thought he also smelled sandalwood and jasmine, a warm sweet smell that made him shiver slightly.

The whole space reeked of excess that even the local brass were awestruck by. Gentlemen struck up conversations with their companions regarding one painting or another, and a few refined ladies stood bemused in front of a large nude Greek statue.

A particularly abnoxious lady's laugh awakened Jacob from his daze. He turned to Evie with an eyebrow up in question, gesturing to this whole ostentatious affair. Evie just shrugged, knowing the question through whatever twin connection they had.

"It's just money, Jacob. The family had to fund the Temple excavations and other projects _somehow_."

Templars, by nature, lusted after limitless power. But when Pieces of Eden weren't readily available, the least magical and most effective power was wealth. Gross, unimaginable wealth. Not all Templars had it, all Templars wanted it, and no Assassin he had ever known had this much of it.

For a member of the Brotherhood, scrounging and looting became a matter of course, what with busily contemplating revenge, justice and Templar mass murder. Accumulating wealth and luxury usually fell by the wayside and attracted far too much attention anyway.

"Assassins aren't supposed to be this rich, Evie," he whispered through the corner of his mouth, eyeballing a particularly attractive statue of a nude Venus.

"Who says? Wealth _is_ power, but how it's used is the difference between us and them." Jacob looked skeptical and Evie just sighed. "Look, it's strategy. If the Brotherhood was always made up of a ragged band of miscreants, we wouldn't be as big of a threat as we are. It's because of people like this that the Order runs scared."

Jacob shook his head, still not grasping this kind of lifestyle. "All he's done is paint a target on his back. And he's inserted _roots_ here. You know what happened to Kenway as well as I do. He got _soft_ and let _two_ men take him down!" Evie had an expectant look, like Jacob would have a point. "Two, Evie! We take two down during a stroll in the park."

Evie made a disgusted noise and waved him away dismissively. "Kenway was twice your age when he died. At the rate you're going at, you should be so lucky."

They had been speaking in lower tones, but she now hushed her voice even more. "Look, I don't know how Murdoch does it. But Henry trusts him and I'm going to at least meet him. He's powerful enough that members of the Order drink his champagne and eat his food, and they don't _dare_ make a move against him."

She gestured widely to the space around them, and grabbed two glasses of champagne from a tray as it walked by. "If that's not power, I don't know what is."

Handing a glass delicately to Jacob, she took a ladylike sip and smiled.

"It's foolhardy, is what it is," Jacob insisted stubbornly.

"Another judgment you are in no position to pass." She took another sip and sighed at his expression. "Darling brother." She was all seriousness now, and turned on the tone reserved solely for lectures.

"How do you think it all happens? Do you really think men like Marx and Darwin face the world alone? That it's just by sheer force of will that their ideas get attention? If only the world was so simple. The Brotherhood wouldn't even need to exist."

She gazed around the room until her sights fell on a particularly pompous looking peacock. "If it was men like them, versus men like _that_ , in a world run only by wealthy _Templars_ , how far do you think they'd get?"

It was clearly a rhetorical question."Not far enough for the world to hear them, I promise you." She took another sip and sighed. "Revolutions, Jacob. _Revolutions_ of spirit and knowledge. Against tyranny of the body and soul. They are _fueled_ by the many and funded by _us_."

She polished off her glass like she'd polished off her little lecture, with a satisfied flourish. A fresh glass was in her hand in another moment and this one she raised for a toast.

He had to admit she had a point, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of telling her so.

He decided a change of topic was in order. "Yes, yes, alright. So. The Order? They _are_ milling around here tonight and we're meant to make small talk with them? What information are we to get?"

He narrowed his eyes and looked around at the well dressed crowd going in and out of various rooms. Dark top hats perched on well combed heads and milky white shoulders peaked out of colorful, bustling gowns. And among them, their enemies.

Evie poked him in the ribs again, and he realized he wasn't doing his best to blend in by leering at the guests.

"How long they're in town. What they do for pleasure. I don't _know_." Evie shrugged nonchalantly. "Henry just wants to give his men an idea of how many to keep an eye out for in Westminster. Just don't ask them how many minds they've controlled lately and you should be fine."

"So I expect you'll be joining me in this _fun_ endeavor?" Evie completely missed his dripping sarcasm, probably on purpose.

"Oh no, I have _other_ plans," she said secretivly as she searched the crowd.

Jacob heaved a heavily sigh. Talking to boring old men sounded just _fantastic_. She next spoke with a twinkle in her eye. "There are some beautiful women here, Jacob. Daughters of the Order. Use small talk. _Sweet_ talk. _Seduction_. She winked at him conspiratorially. "Have _fun_ , Jacob. You'll never see these people again and you'll die of boredom otherwise."

She placed her hand back into his arm and they moved through the crowd. Evie easily inserted herself into conversation and turned on her bright sweet charm.

Jacob knew his smile was rather fake and vacant so he tried to distract himself by looking around some more. He had a keen eye for things he wasn't meant to notice.

Some of the daper gents around him surreptitiously admired the breasts and curves of women they were decidedly _not_ supposed to have eyes for.

Money exchanged clean gloved hands over lost wagers and pretty painted women simpered and seduced men clearly not _their_ husbands.

Servants in black and white bustled in between the guests, carrying plates of caviar, jams, jellies, custards and little pieces of mutton skewered on miniature gold forks. Wine and champagne floated between guests and quickly reappeared as soon as a tray disappeared.

It amazed Jacob, as he watched these elitists mill about, how little they saw of the world around them. The world was their oyster, and they just _took_ what they wanted, _when_ they wanted. And they wanted for _nothing_. Whoever Mr. Murdoch was, he either was as slimy as these people, or he had a heart of steel to put up with them.

"Jacob, do you have somewhere else you want to be?" Evie had caught him leering around again and he gave her his best filthy rich smile.

"I do believe so, dear sister. I think the bosom of some fine little minx has my name on it. I should go check which one."

The women they were standing near gasped at his lewdness, covering their painted lips with little gloved hands. He gave them his most devilish Jacob Frye wink and slipped away into the party.


	5. Keep Your Enemies Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie's been obsessing over that vault she had just barely escaped so aside from meeting Mr. Murdoch, she has other plans for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evie's POV again and the introduction of my very first original male character.
> 
> Some mildy steamy content between Evie and OMC. :-) 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I love reading your comments!

As Jacob disappeared into the party, Evie took a steadying breathe and searched the faces of the guests. She wouldn't admit it, but Jacob was right; this was all _exceedingly_ lavish.

Her nervousness faded as she drifted amongst the artwork littering the main hall. She always had her own flair for style so blending in hadn't been a concern for tonight.

It was what she wanted to _achieve_ tonight that made her nervous.

Henry had asked her to just keep an ear to the ground and see if Starrick was rallying after the affair with Twopenny. It would be simple enough and Evie was confident it wouldn't be a problem for her to learn a thing or two.

But she'd never been the type to just do what was simple. Edward Stanton would be here. The man she had robbed blind in the most chaotic heist of her life.

She still kicked herself for the way she had handled that. Now that he had tripled his guard and improved his locking mechanisms, she had just made life more difficult for herself.

She had obsessed over what else Stanton had secreted away in there the minute she'd left it. She had walked away from a treasure trove of knowledge and history, and she couldn't rest knowing it was in Templar hands.

Besides, since so much had come to a screeching halt with the shroud, she knew now was the time to explore other dangers that they'd been too preoccupied to pursue before.

And she had a plan. Sort of. A vague, sort-of plan she hadn't deemed necessary to share with Henry or Jacob. Especially not Henry. Especially not _Jacob_ , who she could imagine rolling on the floor laughing.

If the night she snuck into his house was any indication, along with the reputation that preceeded him in these social circles, Stanton was known to be quite the playboy.

Word had it that he came to large, high profile events like this _alone_ and always left escorting his next conquest. If she played her cards right, Evie could insert herself where she needed to be by the end of the night; in his house.

It wasn't far from here, and with a little help from Miss Nightingale, she had acquired a sleeping draught that could take care of him while she went to work on that vault.

It was an irregular plan for her, to say the least. All of her questions could usually be answered with books, brawn or stealth. Now for the first time, none of those three tactics were an option, so she _had_ to try something new. At least that's what she convinced herself of and she would give it her best shot, _damnit_!

She didn't swagger like Jacob, and wasn't a particularly graceful flirt. Her interactions with Henry were just her, being herself, and he appreciated it all the same without any _savoir faire_. But Edward Stanton was likely a pompous twit who'd need a dainty woman to swoon over him. It would mean a whole new kind of fortitude.

As she stood before a painting, she observed the women around her from the corner of her vision. In the way they tipped their heads when they spoke, or plucked imaginary dust from a man's collar. A little gloved hand drifted to an arm over there, and a breast brushed another arm over there. _Gosh_ , these women were bold.

"Enjoying the art, I see." Evie jumped in surprise and turned around to see a tall, handsome man standing behind her. He was broad chested, muscular and wore a close fitting frock coat that flattered him exceedingly well. His hair was pitch black and combed back from a high brow. While there were thin strips of grey hair combed back from his temples, his face was young and chiseled. He looked... Healthy? Okay. Distinguished? _Gosh_ , he looked like he belonged on one of these pedestals actually.

Edward Stanton.

Shit, now she could _definitely_ not tell Henry.

He'd found her before she'd had a chance to finalize her tactics, scope out her opportunities, or even finish her second glass of champagne. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest as she smiled sweetly at him.

"Yes, well it's quite the collection Mr. Murdoch has here." She was relieved that her voice came out steady and confident, and she relaxed a little bit as she looked at the painting she'd been facing but not observing.

"He is a great connessiour of... _interesting_ art. I've always been _fascinated_ by the new items he collects." He had his arms clasped behind his back and confidently took one long stride to stand beside her. His face pointed to the painting, but Evie got the distinct impression his goal was to actually point his strong profile at her. An indirect but not so subtle way to display his physique, that was for sure.

"Such as this, for instance! I believe it's the one that got kicked right out of France."

Evie cocked her head at the scene before them and read the placard beneath. Edouard Manet? It was a beautiful piece detailing a luncheon on the grass, with four figures. Two men sat talking, and in their company was a very nude woman in the foreground sitting beside them. The woman smiled contentedly at the viewer as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Really? I can't see _why_ ," Evie said with a coy smile. "They all appear to be _quite_ happy. _Particularly_ the gentleman beside her." She spoke low and coquetishly, in a way that she hoped sounded less ridiculous than she felt.

That brought a smile to his lips and he looked down at her with renewed interest. "Indeed. Perhaps it is _because_ it is so odd that they appear quite happy."

"Is there not a little oddness in all of us, Mister...?"

Stanton turned his body to face her fully and bowed deeply, bringing her black satin glove to his lips. His eyes captured hers as he kissed her fingers. "Stanton. Edward Stanton, at your service."

He was utterly charming and Evie was a little disarmed by him.

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Stanton. _Miss_ Camilla Dawkins." He didn't seem to notice her Dickens inspired hodgepodge name, but he _did_ flash her a wickedly heartstopping grin when she emphasized her unmarried status. Would he make this so easy?

"Perhaps you have heard of me, if you're from Westminster.“ He was stroking his own ego and trying to learn if she was local in the same statement. Smooth.

"Indeed, I have heard a bit. Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Stanton."

"Oh?“ He was being ever so playful now. "And what reputation may that be, my dear _Miss_ Dawkins?“

Evie felt herself confidently fall into character now. She waved her hand dismissively and decided to casually pretend-pick a thread from his shirt collar. He watched her movement with a silky smile, knowing damn well his shirt was perfect. "Oh, you know. Charismatic, handsome, witty, the usual gossip from London high society."

"Well I can promise you, Miss Dawkins, I am all those things and _more_." He whispered ' _more_ ' conspiratorially and arched a single eyebrow that suddenly made him look like a hunter. A hunter that had had found his prey.

She smiled prettily and looked up at him shyly. "Word travels far, seeing as I am in fact _not_ from London. I'm visiting from Crawly but perhaps you know Mr. John Harmon? He just married and is a good friend of the family's.“

Luckily Jacob had done a few favors recently for said Mr. Harmon and his future wife to be, so Harmon owed the Frye's a few favors. Stanton could verify the story if he decided to, although at the moment, he didn't seem compelled.

Stanton's eyes sparkled when she spoke and he offered his arm to her gallantly.

“Ah, then it seems I only have chance and circumstance to thank for the pleasure of your company this evening."

"It would seem so, Mr. Stanton. Although far too little time has passed for you to _truly_ know the pleasure of my company."

She flushed red just as she said it, and tried to hide her face as she felt the hard muscles of his bicep under her fingers. _What had she just implied? Within a minute?_ Eve's heart started hammering in her chest again. Stanton chuckled and squeezed her hand, being courteous enough not to ask for clarification.

How _badly_ would she have to mess this up to mess _this_ up? He really did seem to be enjoying himself, and she was keeping his interest in the best way she knew how. Sexual innuendo never fails.

He led her through the party, pointing out the nobility and the bores, the gossips and the cheats. He spoke of this or that scandalous affair, and after a while they gained a momentum of banter and conversation that came easily to both of them. Evie didn't have to act the fragile little morsel she thought she would have to be. When she pulled herself out of the moment, she was struck by how they spoke as if they'd known eachother for years.

He moved about with grace and dignity, catching the eyes and admiration of men and women alike and introducing her to various couples. She was immediately surprised at how well he was received. All of these people seemed to genuinely like him, and were not just afraid for their lives if they didn't.

Evie had to admit he had an aire about him. One that wasn't threatening like her other targets, but rather sophisticated, charming and intelligent.

They stood close together with their glasses of wine and spoke intimately of the paintings and sculptures they came across, both surprising the other with the depth of their knowledge. Stanton's hunter's gaze turned into one of respect as one hour became two and she held her own in matters of art and history.

Had so much time already passed? She surprised herself at how involved she was in their conversation. She was inserting a little too much of herself into Camilla Dawkins, but she had to admit that it was refreshing to share and learn information with someone who knew more than her.

"Miss Dawkins." His tone changed as they found themselves in a more secluded corner of a side hallway. They had reached a point of particular intimacy when he had smoothed a lock of hair from her face. "How is it you know as much as you do about Greek and Roman art history?“ His tone was only gentle and curious and she blushed under his curious eyes.

He handed her a fresh glass of wine and she smiled. "A few overly enthusiastic tutors started it all, Mr. Stanton. I suppose my own natural curiosity took me the rest of the way."

"Indeed," he murmured as he brushed a lock of hair from her face. She shivered involuntarily. His voice was low as be stood close to her. "Your natural curiosity is refreshing to say the least. I speak to associates about these things all day long, but rarely do I have the privilege to meet a woman at a party with knowledge that rivals my own." He held up his glass to her's and they toasted with a quiet clink. "To new friends and their insatiable curiosity."

She could _almost_ actually toast to that. _Keep your friends close and you enemies closer._ She smiled at her own literal situation.

"Friends, Mr. Stanton? I suppose that means I'm the only one enjoying myself?

When she looked up at his dark eyes, she swore they were closer that before. She swallowed back the dryness in her throat and wet her lips. Her eyes glanced at his lips, smiling slightly and drawing nearer. She'd have to do this at least once to get into his house. Otherwise he might end up offering her a job instead of inviting her over.

As she looked him over this close, she supposed she could have worse targets to seduce. Like Starrick.

She involuntarily shivered at the thought, and Stanton smiled slyly, misinterpreting her reaction. "May I be so bold as to kiss you, Miss Dawkins." He was so close that it was a statement more than a question, but he had been courteous enough to say it.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back in reply, and felt his hand stroke her cheek sweetly before she felt his warm lips on hers.

He tasted of wine and smelled of expensive cologne, clean and crisp. She leaned into his body and parted her lips ever so slightly.

He was sweet and respectful, and Evie felt herself get a little light headed. She placed her hands on his arms where they were about her waist.

When he drew away, he kept his face close to her's and looked completely sincere. "There is something _different_ about you, Miss Dawkins," he whispered.

 _He probably tells that to all the girls_ , Evie convinced herself. _He's a Templar bastard, Evie Frye._

"I'm in thrall to you, body and mind, Miss Dawkins. Tell me," and he leaned in and kissed her gently under her ear, making her shiver in his arms again, "how do you do it?"

She could only hum gently, figuring it was an acceptable response. He kissed her lips again, this time more urgently, his hands pulling her in close, in lust and need that she reciprocated. He kept his hands on her waist, letting them only stray to touch her cheek or the back of her neck. Not knowing what to do with her own, she at first placed them on his broad shoulders, but felt them slide around his neck, holding him tightly.

She was going to get into this man's house, and of all the tools she used in her arsenal for her targets, this was perhaps the nicest. She could feel herself growing warm as their passion flaired for a brief but thrilling moment.

Not thrilling. She wasn't enjoying this. This was a target, a Templar target.

She pressed herself into him even harder, running her fingers through his perfect hair and gripping him tightly.

Nope, she definitely didn't enjoy a _lick_ of this.

The music in the distant ballroom suddenly seemed to rise, and Stanton broke their embrace gently. He had to practically peel her away with the way she had held him.

His eyes had darkened with a greedy lust, and she knew hers had too. She felt mildly breathless and very flushed. "I suppose. We should. Go. And have ourselves. A little dance."

His simple sentence was punctuated by sweet playful pecks on her lips. She kissed him back and allowes him to finish by nuzzling her neck. "We won't be missed, but I suppose it could be fun."

She helped him smooth out his disheveled hair, but he seemed utterly distracted and kept leaning in for more kisses. He was as bad as a teenage boy, and she completely didn't mind.

He finally pulled back and offered her his arm again, brushing a lock of her hair back and stroking her cheek in the same gesture. "Perhaps not as fun as this, but it will do."

As they walked towards the ever expanding music, the welcoming signal for all the guests to partake in the festivities, women glanced at her curiously. She saw a few of them whisper conspicuously behind their hands. "...so soon in the evening," was the most Evie caught, and she smiled. She _did_ work fast. She may be able to even get a good night's rest in her own bed before the night was over.

"You seem to be well liked here, Mr. Stanton. May I ask what your position is among these fine people? I don't even know your line of work!" She hadn't thought to ask because she already knew, but she supposed it would look suspicious if she wasn't at least curious.

He laughed at the same realization. "Yes, I suppose we skipped some of the formalities of civilized conversation, didn't we?" He squeezed her hand and smiled warmly down at her.

"You must be wondering how I know all that I know. I am an archeologist by trade, my lady. A rather dirty but rewarding business." He handed her another glass of wine as a servant walked by, and they sipped as they made their way to the ballroom. "Perhaps not the most exciting job to most people, but I'm fortunate to be funded privately." He winked at her scandalously. "It affords me far more leverage and license than working for a silly museum."

She laughed pleasantly and wondered if he would divulge anything interesting at this point in the night. Had he had enough to drink? “Oh please, Mr. Stanton. How could digging require more leverage and licence?" she teased.

"It can be _nefarious_ work, I assure you." He said it playfully but she wondered how much was true. They stopped near the entrance to the ballroom and faced eachother now. They stood closer than perhaps was appropriate in public, but neither of them noticed. "There are so many mysteries yet to be uncovered, Miss Dawkins, so much that humanity doesn't know about itself."

She arched an eyebrow curiously. "And how would simple folk like myself know about these mysteries if they are not in any silly museum?“

He laughed and looked at her admiringly. "That's a very good question, darling." She wasn't sure if he even realized his eyes were roaming her face again, lingering on her lips like he wanted to kiss her. She hadn't been looked at so intently until she met this man and her cheeks flushed.

He leaned in ever so slightly, enough to turn heads as guests walked into the ballroom.  
"Trust me, humanity will learn of all the things I find. You won't miss a thing." He kissed her cheek instead, lingering by her ear. "Things that will boggle your mind," he whispered.

If she wasn't Evie Frye, Assassin and expert on Pieces of Eden, she would have thought he was joking. Making his work sound more interesting than it really was.

But she did know what was out there in the world, the things that possibly lay hidden in his vault, and an unpleasant chill slid down her back at his implication.

He misinterpreted her shiver again, of course, lingering longer by her ear, his breathe warm and teasing against her skin. "Perhaps...." He hesitated and suddenly seemed unsure of himself. "Perhaps, you'd be interested in seeing what I mean later this evening?"

Her worry melted as he watched her face closely. _He_ was probably worried he had come on too strong, so she smiled to ease his concern. "I think my curiosity would kill me if I said no."

And she was in. After this dance, they'd dally for propriety and be on their way. As they walked into the ballroom she vaguely wondered where Jacob had gone off too all this time. Not causing more trouble, she hoped. She wouldn't get a chance to tell him where she was going, but she shouldn't take long if she could slip Stanton the draught before they even made it up his stairs.

The ballroom was another magnificent space in this already magnificent house. Massive floor to ceiling mirrors were installed on three walls that magnified the room. They also appeared to double the inner gardens that could be seen through the floor to ceiling windows on the fourth side. The floor gleamed of dark polished mahogany and the ceiling was a massive mural. Devils and angels warred up there while cherubs curiously watched satyrs and nymphs frolick and play out one mischievous scene or another.

The impressive space made her curious about this Mr. Murdoch again. She had nearly forgot all about him and their plan to meet this evening. She would _have_ to work quickly at Stanton's or risk missing their arranged meeting. She had no idea when Murdoch would summon them, but she didn't want to miss this chance either.

Stanton lead them gracefully out into the middle of the floor, and the music quieted to give couples the chance to position themselves. His left hand held her close and more tightly around her waist than he perhaps needed to. He seemed more than just hungry for her, but rather possessive too.

As the music started, he guided then fluidly around the room, looking down at her with that same charming smiling. She felt like she was flying, gliding and she let herself be wisked around to the orchestra.

Not all Assassins were killers, Evie contemplated as she mused over his twinkling eyes and remembered his kisses. So could all Templars be labeled as greedy power mongers? Was it fair to immediately assume he was a natural enemy when they obviously had so much in common?

After a little under ten minutes, the music slowed to allow couples a moment of rest. Stanton took the opportunity to scandalously lean down and kiss her swiftly.

She assumed a look of playful shock and glanced around the room as if she cared who was watching. "My apologies," he murmured, keeping close to her. She kissed him back quickly as they danced at a slower pace.

Just as the music was picking up again, a loud crash resounded in the ballroom. Stanton looked up behind Evie and Evie looked behind her. A small serving woman was scrambling madly to clean up a scattering of plates and glasses while she was being ruthlessly scolded by a plump matronly woman.

Evie turned back around to Stanton and was on the verge of kissing him again while all eyes were on the commotion behind her. Instead of focusing on her, his eyes were now outside towards the garden, his brow furrowed in concentration or confusion, Evie wasn't sure which. He seemed to be staring intently at something, but when Evie turned around, the gardens appeared normal. Gorgeous, but otherwise normal.

When she turned back to face him, he was now searching her face intently. They continued to move slowly even as the music picked up and couples were swirling and twirling around them in the waltz.

His hand went up to her cheek, then to her neck, along to her exposed collarbone. He watched his own fingers as they trailed her skin, deep in thought. The sensation would have been lovely if it weren't for the expressionless look on his face.

"Miss Dawkins? Was I mistaken in seeing that you arrived here tonight with someone?“

Evie stiffened. It was an out of the blue question she wasn't expecting. Worried about what prompted him, she smiled and nodded, hoping her concern didn't show.

"Yes, my cousin joined me this evening. But, as you can tell," and she toyed with the collar of his shirt, letting her fingers brush his neck, "we've parted ways for the evening."

"Is that right? _Cousin_....." He was contemplating something and Evie didn't like it one bit. She tried another distraction by running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy it for a moment.

"You see, darling," he held her close to his chest now, his eyes still closed, "I really do pride myself in solving riddles and mysteries."

When he opened his eyes again, his expression was stoney and his eyes cold. Evie held her breathe and her heart hammered. Her feet fumbled in their dance, but he hardly seemed to notice.

He tilted his head slightly and watched her face closely.

"Perhaps you can help me explain the mystery of why your _cousin_ just leapt _off_ of the roof and into the gardens?“

_Fuck, Jacob._

Evie heaved a deep breathe and made to break free of him, but Stanton's grip was like iron. All the muscles she had admired a few hours ago were now tensed in anger and frightening.

His handsome face twisted into a sneer and she saw that she had been very wrong.

He was as bad as the rest of them.

"I didn't think so, _darling_ ," he whispered harshly into her ear. The hands on her waist were like a vice, and she stopped struggling at the horrible look in his eyes. "Now, Miss _Frye_. You _will_ tell me where you've taken my _map_."


	6. Private Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 runs parallel to Chapter 5, following our favorite rapscallion twin, Mr. Jacob Frye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry these chapters are so long! I'm really losing myself in this and I like writing Jacob's POV. Thanks for reading and bearing with me! 
> 
> Next two chapters stray away from plot, just character development, and introducing new OFC to move plot later.

Well, then. His entire evening seemed to be something of a bust.

It hadn't taken long for him to engage in a somewhat heated _debate_ about how the Rooks were, in fact, a positive force in the city. That they were there to provide order and security when the city's police were few and far between. And no, you ignorant, self-righteous, pompous sack of shit with no concept of what the folks of this city go through, their leader was a perfectly respectable man and would not stand to be compared to the Blighter's raving lunatic leader, Maxwell Roth. Thank you very much. Have a good day.

Jacob's mood had turned a bit sour after that little debacle. He grew sulky and dark, drinking a brandy in a dark corner, watching the men in the smokey parlor guffaw and recount tales of their heroic sons and well married daughters.

A few women had tried to catch his eye, and he rallied when one particular gem openly winked at him.

He had sauntered over to her, tipped his hat low and leaned casually against the bar as she let him tell her how beautiful she was and perhaps she'd fallen from the sky, and all that nonsense.

Not only was she utterly daft, as he came to realize in a minute or two, but she was very much _called_ for. By a very _large_ man who returned with her wine and a bright red face.

Jacob was of the mind to beg a quick apology and leave them to it, but the man seemed to _want_ a fight, and he gave Jacob a hearty shove while he was walking away. Damn rich gits probably never drew a drop of blood in their lives.

He was tempted, so tempted, to knock him senseless right then and there. But he knew Evie was counting on his best behavior tonight, so with fists clenched and teeth gritted, he had walked away without a shred of his usual dignity.

That had been the last straw. It was only the second mishap within the first hour but he wasn't keen on a third. To avoid any and all confrontation, the relative piece and quiet of the inner gardens would suit him just fine. He could go sit out the evening _alone_.

He had been tempted to go find Evie and play the tag-a-long brother, the kind who awkwardly stands within ear shot pretending to find his nails immensely intriguing.

He had found her eventually, making sweet with some tall, entirely too handsome man who absolutely _reeked_ of bombastic machismo. But, to her credit, it appeared Evie was playing some kind of game of her own and handling herself rather well. The gentleman could very well be one of Henry's requested targets, and he didn't need to fuck it up for her. Or rather, he _really_ didn't need another earful about _how_ he had fucked it up for her.

Without a way to vent his evening's frustration, Jacob felt the pull of his familiar exhaustion. It wasn't aches and pains so much as being _drained_.

Between managing the Rooks and converting Blighters, taking over boroughs and taking out Starrick's henchmen, Jacob regularly had his hands full. It was a relief to slump into his bed every few nights and drink a glass of brandy to help him sleep.

His body was always more sore in the mornings than the night before, but he still got up, stretched and went at it again. The days blended in more often than not lately. Aside from some carousing with his men and a few fist fight matches, he didn't have a whole lot of room for _fun_. And it clearly wanted to evade him tonight too.

As he walked out of the ballroom and into the adjoining inner gardens, he shook off his sullenness as best he could. The warm night air was soothing as he inhaled the scents of the garden around him.

Lanterns were hung up around the perimeter and near benches that were scattered around the cobble stone paths. At the garden's center was a beautifully illuminated fountain. The candles placed along its rim cast the sparkling water in a warm glow from below and the bright night sky topped the water with a dusting of silver from above. The two colors combined created a striking effect, and Jacob took the opportunity to find a facing bench and have a seat.

Now was as good a time as any to get some peace and quite. It wasn't exactly private though, seeing as the massive glass windows looked directly into the ballroom, and couples were hidden away in various corners out here.

Plus, the music and conversation still roared in his ears and he could do without that too. How to get away from _all_ of it?

The new brand of silence he'd discovered atop of St. Paul's had been eye opening. London could be a dangerous, cruel, and _dirty_ place but when he was up there, the roar of chaos became the steady throb of a pulse. He could hear London's _heart beat_ up there. The cruelties of the world blended in with the good, until it was just humanity. And it reminded him of why he fought so hard and bruised himself so badly.

Ah, the beauty of the fountain made him wax philosophical. Or he'd had too much brandy. How _lovely_ , regardless.

In summation, he really needed to get _away_ from these rich tits if he was going to continue to think their gilded little hearts were worth risking his ass every day.

He couldn't leave the party entirely. Evie would have his head if he wasn't around when Murdoch came to call. But every building in London always had the one thing he needed. His own personal foot path.

He looked up and smiled. What a lovely roof. He should go see for himself what a lovely roof that was.

He stretched casually and stood up, scoping out the garden for the darkest corner to scale up the manor. Hand holds were easy enough to spot, and there were enough shady areas where no one should spot him.

He finally settled on a particularly dark corner. It was at the furthest point from the ballroom windows, so technically no one should spot him unless they were looking _for_ him.

He gazed up at the roof three stories above him. If his coat wasn't so tight around his shoulders and back, he might have readily scaled the wall in a heartbeat. But he would be forced to take off his coat, and so now he forced himself to stop and consider.

Of course, Evie would kill him. If he was caught, he'd be risking their exposure at a Templar infested party. He'd be placing them both in danger.

But he was good. He was as stealthy as Evie, although he didn't use those skill sets _as_ often. It was too slow and tiresome, but that didn't mean he wasn't its master.

After five minutes of running the repercussions though his head one last time, he shrugged off his coat and crouched low. As he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and loosened his collar, he could feel the springs in his calves and thighs wind up with tension. Without another thought, he leapt, bounded off the back of a stone bench and was immediately ten feet off the ground.

He scaled the rest of the wall in a matter of moments and quickly crouched near a chimney stack nearby, listening for either a shout of alarm or even a simple _What the bloody hell was that?_

When he heard neither after a few moments, he smiled at his good luck and slipped into the shadows. An hour on the roof was sure to clear his head and then he'd check in on Evie again.

He caught a much needed gentle breeze floating across the park as he wound his way around the various chimneys and pipes. The roof was in such excellent shape he hardly made a sound with little effort.

He worked his way to the front of the house and crouched over the hundred or so people milling around the well lit front gardens. Now _this_ was a _much_ better perspective.

He settled down to watch the guests from the safety of the roof. He perched one arm across a raised knee, the other leg straight, and comfortably reclined against a chimney.

Small little dolls of well dressed people milled around, becoming almost mechanical as they laughed and clinked champagne glasses. They moved in circles around each other, until they all started to gain their own natural rhythm, like a sort of dance. Or like those clocks with little people who came out and struck anvils, plucked chickens, or took a whiz every hour.

He heard a slight noise behind him and turned, fully expecting to be caught red handed by his sister; before he remembered what she was wearing. Her up here would be a sight to see in that ridiculous ball gown.

When he saw no one behind him on the silver lit roof, figuring a couple of pigeons had taken flight, he settled back in to ruminate on which guests would make the best clock pieces. Particularly the whizzing type.

Another noise came from behind him, this time the sound of a light foot on tile. Before he could turn, he felt the sharp point of a knife against the side of his throat. His whole body tensed and froze.

"Move, and you'll be wearing a new neck tie."

A woman? Her voice was a husky harsh whisper in his ear and he twisted his face in a grimace. Shit luck tonight, beyond a doubt.

"Who is your target, Assassin? Name him!“

"I don't _have_ a fucking target," he responded tersly. His jaw was clenched along with his fists, ready to find an opportunity to grab the knife.

"Then what the _fuck_ are you doing up on this _roof_? _Sightseeing?_ “

“I might ask you the same question. And, as a matter of fact, _yes_. I am enjoying the party _away_ from the party."

The knife prodded harder at his neck, enough that he thought she drew blood. And on his new shirt!

“Why do I find it hard to believe you?“

“Probably because you don't _know_ me, woman."

Before he realized what she was doing, she managed to twist an arm behind him and handcuff it. In the same swift movement, before he could fight back, he was attached to a piece of iron grating embedded in the chimney.

"What the fuck is _this_!“ He wanted to roar in rage but given his location, he had to settle for a harsh whispered exclamation.

He twisted left and right, trying to get a look at his attacker, fighting and pulling at the cuff at the same time.

She was ridiculously quick. In a flash of darkness, a woman cloaked in shadows stood before him. The warm red glow from the lantern lights below rose up to illuminate her in a sinister, almost hellish glow as she stood before him.

Her head was hooded with the familiar beak of an Assassin. With her head tilted down, the hood concealed most of her face except her mouth. It was the only part of her that moved.

"There is a tenuous truce here tonight, assassin. Break that truce and many people will _die_. Do you understand?"

Teeth bared, Jacob could only growl. "Did you not hear me? I'm _not_ here to kill anyone. My sister and I are here to meet Murdoch. _Prearranged_. _Planned_. As in, he _knows_ we're _here_."

He brace himself for a round of berating questions as the woman peered at him through eyes he couldn't see. She tilted her head and seemed to consider his words, debating whether he could be trusted.

He watched her mouth curl into a smirk, and then break into a grin. She tilted her head up and pushed her hood back until he could see her perfectly.

"Why didn't you say so, Mr. Frye?“ Her voice immediately took on a warm and welcome tone, but Jacob was transfixed by her face.

She was stunning. Her skin glowed a toasted caramel, and her heart shaped face was all delicate lines and high cheekbones. Her hair was in a very tight bun, but he could see natural curls trying to escape their bindings. But her most distinctive feature was her large almond shaped eyes, dark and limitless, and now narrowed slightly with her smile. They were larger than was absolutely necessary, as if a painter wanted to emphasize them a little bit more than everything else. They twinkled in the moonlight now, and he knew he was just staring like an idiot at this point.

Still grinning, she arched an eyebrow at his prolonged silence. "Sorry for the extra precautions," gesturing to the cuffs. "Some of the Brotherhood like to think these parties are just pigs in a pen." She winked at him slyly. "Templar swine _ripe_ for the slaughter."

As she spoke, she suddenly leaned closer to him, and Jacob could smell her jasmine scented hair. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, and watched her reverently as she unlocked the handcuffs from the grate and his hand.

"But Murdoch has negotiated an established peace on nights like these. He's powerful enough to demand it, and the Order and Brotherhood alike need to comply."

She was tucking her handcuffs into her coat pocket again, and Jacob tried subtly to get her to look up at him, tilting his head this way and that to get her attention. She still stood close, and he let an unbidden smirk play on his lips.

But suddenly, to his chagrin, she stepped away and looked up at him again, the light still in her eyes. "But there are always _new_ Brothers or Sisters who don't know any better, and try to break that truce. Good thing I was here."

"I told you, I'm not here to kill anyone. But how do you know who I am?“

“Your reputation preceeds you, Mr. Frye. You and your gang are taking London by storm." She laughed then, a quick laugh that was music to his ears. "Do you really think Mr. Murdoch would've given you an audience if you weren't making a big commotion? He'd be doing _himself_ a disservice if he didn't at least introduce himself. He's usually the most ostentatious one in the city.“

"I would hardly say we're ostentatious. You should see our train. But commotion? Whose making a commotion? London is a better place because of me!“

He grinned and her eyes darkened surprisingly fast, her hands going up to her hips. Her lips no long held that teasing smile, and his expression froze awkwardly on his face. "Is that right, Mr. Frye? They said you were a cocky sonofabitch, but rumor tends to exaggerate. Not in your case, apparently."

It was his turn to arch a brow, still smirking as he waited for her to continue. Getting reamed out by this woman he just met may be more interesting that hearing it from Evie.

"Seriously. You think the things you've done are heroic? Did you _know_ you created an extortion ring for common medications people need _every day_?"

"Did _you_ know that Starrick's simple syrup was opium, being peddled on the streets like honey?" Jacob countered. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head.

"You nearly destroyed the Bank of England and the Queen's currency."

Jacob sighed in exasperation. He'd _just_ heard this one from Evie. "I just stopped the bastard bank governor from _stealing_ from the people of England. The _Bank of England_ was under Templar control and now it very much _isn't_."

Before the woman could start in on him again with something else, he raised both hands before him in surrender. "Look. Look. I would _love_ nothing more than to have a beautiful woman scold me all night for the things I've done."

That got him an impatient glare and definitely no smile.

"And I _could_ go on and on about the children who aren't slaving away in factories anymore because of me, or innocent people who aren't murdered on the street by common criminals because I was there." He let his voice trail off, and her eyes seemed to soften _a little_ as she seemed to consider it.

"But I would much rather we introduce ourselves in a more _civilized_ manner. At least allow me that _before_ you attack me again."

He felt at his neck and the blood that had dried there. " _Especially_ since I'm pretty sure you ruined my brand new shirt."

He cocked his head down at an uncomfortable angle and pulled at his shirt collar trying to get a good look at it. Now she smiled again, probably because he looked ridiculous.

"It'll wash right out, you idiot." She thrust her hand out towards him and he shook it politely. He felt the urge to kiss her hand like a lady but had the distinct impression that would only earn him a slap.

"Mia Ambrose, assassin extraordinaire."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ambrose. But I'm afraid that title is already taken. Would you accept first mate _to_ the Assassin Extraordinaire?"

"I'm afraid you've done nothing to impress _me_  to deserve such a lofty title. "

"Jacob, please. And I _could_ say the same thing about you."

She was turning away from him, and started to walk along the flat apex of the roof. The house was so massive that they could walk along the center side by side without being detected by anyone below. It truly was a walking path.

Jacob walked along beside her and snuck peeks at her profile from the corner of his eye. She was a bit shorter than him, by half a head, and had an elegant saunter to her walk. She was rather petite too, and he felt a shadow of embarrassment that she had managed to handcuff him as easily as she had. She was fast though, and truth be told, he _was_ impressed.

"Oh, please, Mr. Frye. I managed to overtake you in _seconds_." It was like she read his mind but he laughed out loud before admitting it.

"You snuck up behind a completely unarmed man. In the dark. With a knife."

"I managed to sneak up the  _Assassin Extraordinaire_ , _Jacob_ Frye," she teased. She stopped now and leaned her back against the stack of another chimney, arms and legs crossed as she allowed the stone to bear her weight. She faced him now, her head tilted and waiting for his retort.

Everything about her mannerisms was easy going and graceful , and Jacob was naturally drawn to her. He stepped towards her, hand in his pocket and tipped his hat to let it canter a bit on his head. He turned his most smoldering gaze on her and curled his lips. "In a fair fight, I could take you."

"Oh you think so? Speed before brawn, my friend." She watched him closely, smiling amusingly at his attempts to be seductive. "You're a great big mass of muscle. I could turn your own weight against you in a heartbeat." She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.

"I'd like to see you try." He stepped close again, now reaching out his hand to brace himself against the chimney and place her between him and it.

She extended a pointer finger towards his chest and pushed him back with it, reminding him to maintain his distance. "You are on the fast track towards finding out, Mr. Frye."

He leaned away from her again obediently and crossed his arms. Her eyes were playful, so she wasn't worried about him in the least. Perhaps he should make it hard for her then. He loved cat and mouse games and he hardly ever played.

"Alright, have it your way." She seemed surprised at how easily he'd given up. "What brings _you_ up to this fine roof anyway? Are you Murdoch's personal guard?"

"Something like that. Someone needs to keep an eye on things. You wouldn't believe the amount of scheming and plotting that goes on around here."

"Bullshit!" he laughed. "These bastards? I've met more interesting people in cemeteries."

She shook her head and beckoned for him to come close. His heart beat a little faster as he stepped near her again.

He was so close now he saw the shine on her full dark lips gleam in the moonlight. She turned her face away from him, showing him her profile and revealing her long slender neck.

_Cat and mouse, cat and mouse, hard to get. Be hard to get._

He leaned in closer, feeling a pull towards her, but before he got too close, she placed both hands on either side of his face and forcefully turned it towards what she had been looking at, down at the party below.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, trying to redeem himself. He _was_ being an idiot, fuck. And she was enjoying it. Shit, she probably knew how to defend herself just fine from men ready to waylay her.

She pointed down to a cluster of well dressed guests below, a grin on her face. "See them down there? The group of five women?“

It didn't take long, as they were the largest group out in the gardens at the moment. They were all well dressed and chatting casually, completely unremarkable. He shrugged and nodded.

"Don't let them fool you," she winked and nudged him a little. "Prettiest little thieves in London. At least two of them tried getting hired as serving girls here. They pilfer houses like this, usually silverware and jewelry. I need to keep an eye on them tonight. They'll make off with half of Murdoch's wealth between their breasts."

Jacob looked at them closer now in this new light and Mia regarded them with something like admiration. "Slippery women. They'd make excellent assassins. The thieving, sneaking kind anyway. They're small time now, but mark my words, they'll be _big._ "

He smiled and nodded to himself. "Maybe I'll recruit them," he said more to himself than Mia. He could always earn some additional income and they could use his connections.

That statement earned him a hard poke with her elbow. "You will do no such thing, Mr. Frye." She turned away from the edge and continued walking. "Let those women take care of themselves," she said over her shoulder. "They don't need _you_ to be their pimp."

"A _what_!" It was the first time he'd been called that, and it took him aback. He kept pace with her again and he followed her as she launched herself onto a balcony.

They stood at a window, concealed by partially draped windows. Inside, in a grandly decorated guest room, with fancy clothes strewn here and there, a couple was fucking right there on top of the sheets. The man had the woman in a particularly lewd position, and Jacob tried to get a better look before Mia abruptly pulled at his arm to draw him away.

"Ugh, Bertie, go home to your wife. Why does he have the hardest time keeping it in his pants?“

“Bertie?“ Jacob laughed as they bounded to another balcony, this one dark, and then up to a separate section of the house."You're joking. That's not--."

He cut himself short when Mia looked over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "You should be honored, Mr. Frye. Not many people get to see their future king's bare ass."

Jacob started rolling with laughter, doubling over until his stomach cramped. Hand on a hip, Mia watched on amused as he got it out of his system.

He was gasping for breathe after a minute and couldn't remember when he'd laughed so hard.

"Oh, that's fantastic!“ He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Are you quite finished?“ A grin had broken out on her face, his laughter _almost_ contagious.

"Just _fantastic_ , Miss Ambrose." He was grinning widely as he straightened up. "You can't blame the man for not keeping it in his pants. He's the future leader of an _Empire_. To be fair, I'll bet that woman made herself quite tempting."

"Touche, Mr. Frye. It _does_ take two." She turned on her heel and if Jacob wasn't mistaken, the sway in her hips had taken on a new exaggeration.

"So hang on a second." He was an up behind her and caught up. "You called me a pimp! What the hell would give you that idea?“

“I said you would be _their_ pimp if you recruited them. You know, you really don't have to have your hands in _everything_ , Mr. Frye. "

"I will have you know I'm a _business_ investor, Miss Ambrose. When I see an opportunity, I take it. I bet you've never seen so many growlers on the streets before." He was rather proud of himself for that.

"Oh yes, yes those _beauties_. Like we needed more of _those_. Now, was that before or _after_ you nearly destroyed the London public transportation system?“

Before he had a chance to retort, she waved her hand away, clearly not wanting to continue that particular line of banter again. "What you do with your time is your business, Mr. Frye."

They walked for a while, Mia pointing out an interesting person here and there. Finally, at one point, she had been quiet for quite some time and Jacob stood as getting antsy.

"So what are we looking for exactly?“ he finally asked.

"My, aren't we curious? That's for me to know...," she teased, purposely not finishing the line. She crinkled her nose and whispered, "Top secret and all that." She turned away and resumed her rounds.

He sighed with exasperation and just stopped in his tracks. He didn't need to bound after this woman all night, especially if she wasn't forthcoming about what they were doing.

"Well, then. You have fun with that, Miss Ambrose. _À bientôt!_ " He said that right, right?

He found a comfortable spot with a view of a rowdier bunch of younger guests, more around his age, and leaned back against a dormer window to listen to their poor jokes and stories. As he heard her steps fade away, he sighed and shrugged to himself. He'd just have to pretend she didn't happen, as hard as that would be.

He shut his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds of the party again.

"It's _toh_ , not _tot_ , Mr. _Extraordinare_. What? Are you already asleep?“

Her voice jolted him again and he cursed loudly. Loud enough that the group below looked around wondering where it came from. He swore he had heard her footsteps growing fainter. How had she done that?

She sat down next to him now, close by, and watched him for a moment. "You just stopped following me." She sounded a bit disappointed, and he could swear she was pouting.

Cat and mouse, then.

He lifted off his top hat and smoothed back his hair. Leaning back further, he then placed the hat squarely on his face. His voice came out muffled as he spoke into the hat.

"I don't follow _blindly_ , Miss Ambrose. I like to know where I'm going, what I'm doing, and if what I'm doing is pointless."

She was silent, and as Jacob lay in the dark, he wondered if she'd left him there. As he was about to lift his hat to check, she spoke up. "I see. So everything has a purpose with you?"

"If it doesn't, I'd just like to know going in. Have I just tailed you for a half hour waiting for women to stuff earrings down their gowns?“

“Perhaps I was just seeking the pleasure of good company this evening, Mr. Frye. Did you consider that?“

Her voice was teasing, and he tipped his hat up to reveal his skeptical expression and confused smile.

She was smiling beautifully down at him in turn, her eyes sparkling again. "I'm sorry if my company isn't entertaining enough for you, Mr. Frye. Perhaps I should be on my way then?"

She made to get up and he grabbed a hold of her hand tightly, keeping her in place. He sat back up, pulling his hat on.

"Tell you what, Miss Ambrose." He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. She didn't move away or push him back this time, but just smiled at him. Good sign.

His eyes roamed from her eyes to her curled lips and lingered there. They looked sweet and soft and he unintentionally licked his own lips. His voice came out huskier than he intended. "Dish me some more dirt on these tits, and I'll consider myself entertained."

She arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow in surprise. She wasn't expecting that, so he had played it well. Jacob Frye was not anything if not unpredictable.

He was secretly thrilled when her eyes roamed to his own lips and she quickly bit her lower lip. She seemed to be considering something _fantastic_ but she shrugged instead and leaned away. They both reclined against the window behind them.

And they talked. They were apparently sitting in a great location because scandalous people kept coming in and out of this particular area. When they weren't talking about other people, they were talking about themselves.

Jacob regaled her with his latest heroics working with Clara and the children and went into the details of how he got into the Bank of England's vault without being detected. It was _more_ proof of just how stealthy he was and he only aimed to impress.

She listened with interest and countered him with her own fascinating stories of Templar thefts and warehouse invasions. He learned she was born in India but had come to London eleven years prior. She wouldn't elucidate the story, but he was nonetheless riveted. Especially when she described a bit of the rebellion there that she had seen for herself.

He became more and more entranced by her as the night wore on, and he had a feeling he was having his own effect. She nudged him a few times and didn't pull away, so their legs stayed pressed against eachother. Eventually her entire side leaned up against his, and he flexed his fingers, tempted to wrap his arm around her shoulders. He felt as giddy and insecure as a schoolboy being this close to a beautiful woman.

He must have hesitated long enough with his advances, because she took it upon herself to shimmy between his side and his arm. His arm naturally wove it's way around her shoulder, having nowhere else _to_ go, and she tucked up tightly against his chest. She looked up at him and they grinned at her not so subtle change in position. His other hand came around to play with the loose strands of curls that had come free, and he vainly attempted to tuck them back behind her ear.

Maybe they'd been up there for hours, one or two? He couldn't be bothered to know or care. Her head rested deep in his shoulder so he felt her breathe by his jaw when she spoke, and the tug of her fingers on his collar where she worked the spot of blood she had drawn. Probably set nice and permanently now.

They were both quiet all of a sudden, enjoying the warmth of eachother, and listening to the sounds of the party and music.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" she whispered into his chest. "How little these people know about what's really going on in the world."

She pulled back just a little, and tilted her head up to look at him. Their lips were not an inch away from eachother and Jacob felt his heart start to race. "We fight so they can have the freedom to what? Suck caviar, fuck and waltz?“ Her tone was bitter but not cruel.

"That's the point, isn't it? Freedom to do whatever. Even nothing. " He passed the back of his fingers along her cheek, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

Her voice was distant, lost in thought. "Yes, ever the watchers. But what if they _knew_ what our war was about? Would they fight beside us to keep their freedom if they knew men sought to control them?“

"They already do, they just don't know what war they're fighting. And I don't think it matters. Freedom from tyranny is the same fight everywhere."

"Yeah well, we're fighting a war now. Do you think they know it? They only know tyranny when it slaps them in the face, not when it sneaks into their government or their banks."

Jacob stopped and considered. How _would_ people react if they knew? Would it be mass hysteria and chaos? Anarchy if they knew the system they relied on could become so corrupt?

"That's why we're here," he finally decided. "One person thinks differently than a mob. They _can't_ know. Let them enjoy life. Let them love life and let us make the world right."

She seemed to agree but wanted to reject it all the same. She cast her eyes down so all he saw was her extraordinary long fringe of lashes. "Right. The world _always_ needs fixing, doesn't it? Some asshole will always fuck things up. But where does that leave us? Fighting an uphill battle until the next asshole? And _we_ can't catch a break? Catch a chance to enjoy life a _little_?

It was a rhetorical question, but she was so fervent and seemed so defeated by it, he felt he had to respond.

But he had no idea what to say. _It was the way things were_ didn't seem sufficient. He lifted his palm to her cheek, at a loss for words. She tilted her face into his palm and closed her eyes before turning her face to kiss his palm slowly, sensously. She looked back up at him through her thick lashes, her eyes dark and inviting. He brushed her soft velvety lips with his thumb and lowered himself so their lips nearly brushed.

"Who says we can't?“ he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun :-) The reference to the five women was when I read that a little band of merry lady thieves started in London in the 1870s, called the Forty Elephants. 
> 
> And I got a hoot reading that King Edward VII couldn't seem to NOT have affairs, so in he went too! 
> 
> Next chapter is Explicit, Jacob and OFC ship. Might have to skip it to refine it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Glitch - Fixed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glitch fixed! This is my first time writing this kind of content, so please pardon the clumsiness! 
> 
> Also, it's the POV of my OFC, and I tried to use "she" and "her" a lot for those of us who have vivid imaginations and can [insert self here]. 
> 
> ;-) 
> 
> WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT (OR MY BEST GOSH DARN ATTEMPT AT IT)

“What the hell just happened?”

“Sorry, looks like we hit a corrupted memory bank.”

“Seriously? What kind of bad timing is that? They were about to get it _on_. Fix it.”

“Hang on, keep your pants on. It's not that easy. Besides, porn isn't really the focus of this exercise right now. You're _supposed_ to be figuring out where--. "

"Fix it.”

* * *

 

**Mia Ambrose**

Jacob's thumb was gentle against her lips even if his skin was a little rough, and she parted them with a sigh.

"Who says we can't?“ His voice was a low rumble, deep in his chest, and she watched him close the distance between them slowly.

His lips brushed over hers cautiously at first, capturing her upper lip gently, then her lower, the tip of his tongue sliding over her skin softly.

She sighed against him and leaned closer. He was still sweet and gentle, testing his boundaries, his fingers caressing her cheek and neck. She pushed towards him, encouraging him to part his lips, and he complied. For a few moments there was nothing but the depth and passion of this first kiss.

His top hat tumbled off then and they both opened one eye to check to see it hadn't tumbled off the roof. Satisfied where it rested, she ran her fingers back through his soft brown hair, letting them tangle in the back.

His own fingers moved to the back of her neck and he quickly untied the band that held up her hair. He broke off their kiss and she smiled coyly as her shiny dark hair amassed in curls around her face and cascaded over her shoulders. He looked at her dumbstruck from this new perspective as he ran locks of it through his fingers.

"Wow," he whispered, and Mia enjoyed seeing the way his eyes widened in surprise.

He wove one of his hands under her hair to the back of her neck and he pulled her in for a rough and hungry kiss. She felt a hunger of her own deep in her belly and his energy and intensity was impossible not to return.

She quickly threw a leg over him so she had him straddled between her legs. He _was_ broad and muscular and his legs felt powerful between her thighs. Her hands pressed against his stomach and chest and she savored at how unyeilding he was. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull herself closer and sidled herself further up his lap.

His strong hands made their way to her shoulders, pausing to rub them gently before moving to her biceps until they passed under her arms.

Before she could stop herself, an uncharacteristic squeal escaped her lips and she pulled away, laughing quietly. "That tickles, you ass," she whispered. His hands were practically below her armpits, and he grinned before quickly tickling her again.

She laughed out loud but before she could swat his hands away, he was kissing her hard again, his hands now safely down at her waist.

"I'll be honest," he whispered breathily, his lips still brushing hers, "I wasn't expecting my night to go quite like this." His eyes were nearly closed and he kissed her briefly again.

"You weren't? That's good." She dipped her lips towards his jaw and worked her way back to his earlobe. His stubble was rough against her soft lips, but she relished the scent of him, of fine leather and clean steel. "Men who expect themselves on a roof doing _this_ are not usually my type."

She tugged at his hair, tilting his head up to her and she nipped at his full lower lip. She growled playfully under her breathe and it set something loose in him.

He growled playfully back and kissed her fervently. Using his hands wrapped around her waist, he slid her even closer along his lap until her breasts were crushed against his chest.

Now _this_ was better. She felt his hardness straining against his trousers, straining between her legs where she sat on him, and they both moaned into their kiss at the same time.

They smiled at their synchronicity and he pulled away to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his lips following close behind.

"'So wait. _'Usually'_?“ he teased into her ear. "Come up here often then, do you?“

He leaned back languidly against the dormer window to look at her more fully perched on his lap. His hands wandered around her torso, across her flat stomach, and up to her breasts.

Mia flushed inexplicably as she felt his eyes wander over her, drinking her in. His thumbs rasped against the hard mounds of her nipples through her thin linen shirt, sending a sharp shiver through her body.

Her own hands started to slowly wander over his chest, unbuttoning the few buttons of his vest as she went.

"What's it to you, assassin?“ She smiled lasciviously and slid her hips against him slowly, teasing him until he twitched against her. "I make it my job to keep the peace here."

The buttons of his vest fell open and she started working on the clean white linen shirt beneath. He watched her work with a crooked smile while his fingers deftly worked on her blouse.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It's not a question if you don't ask it," she countered.

He grinned. "I think I'm actually afraid to ask now."

She smacked him lightly on his now bare chest, turning the reprimand into a caress as she ran her fingers through the soft dark hair on his chest, admiring the eagle tattoo she now saw there. Perhaps it meant he had Eagle Vision? A descendant of the First Ones then....

"I'll have you know, the lucky ones get a boot up their ass when I find them up here. The rest get a fist in the face." She slid her finger tips further down his stomach, toying between his skin and the edge of his trousers. "You should count yourself _exceptionally_ lucky."

Her shirt suddenly fell open and her heart skipped a beat as she felt his rough fingers against her soft skin. She arched herself into his waiting hands and his thumbs passed back over her nipples again, circling and flitting over them.

He suddenly leaned forward and gathered her tightly into his powerful arms before taking one hard mound between his lips and tugging gently. The sensation was blissfully sweet, and he lifted his eyes up to her when she heaved a loud sigh.

"Trust me. I do."

He went to work on her without a moment's hesitation. Her breathe caught in her throat as he worked her nipples in his mouth and between his fingers. His teeth grazed her and pulled at her, sending shivers through her body and a particularly wild knot of pleasure formed deep in her chest.

As his kisses swept over every available inch of her hot bare skin, both her hands tugged at his soft hair to urge him onwards and downwards. Her hips started rocking and grinding against his hardness, almost of their own volition.

There was something so liberating, so exhilarating about where she was and who she was with, here on the rooftop. With an oblivious party below and the sounds of their breathing mixed in with the city, she felt every inhibition, every rational thought, flutter away into the night.

Jacob _fucking_ Frye.

With her eyes closed and head thrown back, it was a few seconds before she realized he had swiftly undone the buttons of her pants. His fingers played near the skin beneath her pant line, but he was hesitating with something.

He pulled away to ask her a question with his eyes. Apparently his inhibition needed some encouragement to fly away. Or he was respectfully asking her for permission.

As her response, she tipped her face down to kiss him hard and rocked her hips into his waiting hand.

His lips were soft and warm, and he immediately accepted her urgent invitation. With a few quick tugs, her breath quickened as he slipped his hand beneath her pants.

Her breathe came out quick and heavy as she felt him deftly slide two fingers against her slit, stroking and coaxing her. He moaned softly against her lips as he felt how hot and wet she was. Arching her hips into his hand, he quickly found the tight bundle of nerves that forced a gasp from her lips.

He moved to position her more comfortably and kissed her passionately as he took his time to find her favorite pace. He was patient and skilled, and shivers of pleasure never stopped coursing through her legs and sex as he focused all his attention on her rhythm.

As her sex got wetter and her heart started hammering hard, he set his fingers thrumming impossibly fast against her clit. She pulled away to gasp as he practically _vibrated_ against her. He pulled at her lower lip before letting her head tumble helplessly against his shoulder while she focused on the waves of pleasure that coursed through her.

Between his patient attention and ernest dedication, her limbs and sex started to hum to a new tune. She threw her head back as she realized the kernel of her orgasm had already started to form. He looked up at her, his handsome face watching her with patient expectation. Her forehead bent down to meet his just as her orgasm blossomed and bloomed through her body, roaring out of her control and into his steadying arms.

As it past over her, wave after wave, she vaguely felt his lips and bristles in the hollow of her neck.

"Oh, _Jesus_ ," she gasped into his ear as it fadded, her entire body tingling and her clit still throbbing and pulsing. His lips brushed at her ear, and she shivered at the low growl of his voice.

"Jacob, actually. _Close._ "

She pulled away and beamed at him. "If I'd have known you were the generous type, I would've skipped all the boring small talk for the last hour."

"Aw, don't say that, m'lady. I love _talk_. His eyes sparkled in amusement as he kissed her quickly. "Words are the spice of life!"

He moved to her jaw, his hand now back to her breast and his lips slowly making their way up her neck, sending chills over her again. "Meeting of the minds," he murmured now against her skin. "...Talk more...," He nipped at her earlobe and with a swift motion of his hips and hands, she was sitting directly on top of his hard cock again.

She laughed. Who knew this one would be so much fun?

"Hang on there, handsome. I don't know if you noticed, " and Mia gestured towards their precarious perch in front of the window where the roof slanted down drastically. "But you _do_ realize that one false move and we'll be falling three stories down. "

He looked at her blankly and deadpanned, "I don't fall."

She laughed out loud at the ernest seriousness of his expression. "Yeah, right. Come on, then. You might not fall, but it's also not _your_ ass waving around in the air."

She swiftly and smoothly stood up, although it would've gone smoother if he wasn't trying to hold her down.

She heard him curse under his breathe as she quickly used all fours like a cat to scramble up the sharp inclined roof to the flat apex.

She stopped to lean against a particularly large stone chimney, her arms crossed over her chest as watched him make his way up. He had his hat back on, tilted low over his eyes, but she could make out a small scowl on his lips as he climbed up awkwardly, slipping a couple of times.

She bit her lip when he reached her and teased, "The great Jacob Frye, laid low by a _house_ roof. Whatever shall London _do_?“

He braced one hand on the stone by her head and pointed at her. "The great Jacob Frye just climbed a roof with a _ridiculously_ large _hard-on_. They'll be telling stories about it for _years_."

He grinned broadly and she only had time to laugh for a moment before his hand was on her cheek and his lips were on her's again. She sighed and tilted her head up, wasting no time; doubting she had much to waste in the first place. The clock was ticking.

With a few swift motions, she had pulled his pants off and threw them beside them.

She involuntarily shivered at the sight of him nearly naked before her. She ran her hands over his hard chest and stomach, and grasped his girth firmly in her palm. He closed his eyes and moved his hips towards her. She smiled as she stroked him slowly. No _wonder_ the roof had been awkward for him. She savored the full girth and length of him, unable to contain her eager anticipation for the main event.

He was definitely growing impatient too, his body shivering as she toyed with him, and he urgently started to tug down her pants. As soon as they were off, and before she could protest, he flicked his wrist and flung her pants over his shoulder, aiming blindly at nothing.

She abruptly broke off their kiss and watched agape over his shoulder as her pants fluttered in the darkness and just _barely_ caught hold of a chimney pipe.

Mouth still open, she turned to his grinning face. "What the fuck was _that_? Who goes flinging women's pants around, you _ass_?"

"What?" he asked innocently. "Did I get it?“

"Get _what_?“

“The _pole_ , of course."

She looked up again and her dark pants were fluttering in the breeze against the dark sky. "Yeah, you were lucky."

He dismissed her with a gesture before smoothly lifting her up from the backs of her bare knees. "Luck has little to do with it." He pushed her against the stone chimney and kissed her lightly and quickly as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

The moonlight cast his perfectly carved features in sharp relief while his hat left his eyes in mysterious shadows. It was in those shadows that she pointed the exasperated question in her eyes.

He waved his pointer finger from side to side in imitation of something, a mischievous smile curling his lips.

"Victory flag," he joked, and earned a quick punch to his arm.

He kissed her hard in response , his hands moving slowly and patiently all across her bare skin, exploring her. She was perfectly poised to take him inside her and he drew closer until just his tip pressed against her wetness, barely splitting her open for him. And, frustratingly, he stopped there.

"You're such a dick," she murmured against his lips.

He chuckled deep in his chest and held her tightly. "You have _no_ idea."

Crushed against him, their kiss had a renewed urgency. Their lips and tongues danced against eachother and she felt his heart hammering in time with hers. She jerked her hips towards him with impatience and the outside of her sex quivered around him until he moaned against her mouth.

And he abandoned all self control. She felt more of him part her, enter her, gently folding back the layers of all their reservations and hesitations.

Her next breathe was a gasp that caught in her throat as he slipped inside her fully. Long and powerful, she felt herself quake and quiver around him as he moved inside her.

He moaned softly and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed and breathing hard. He seemed hesitant to move, so she adjusted her hips and used her legs to press him closer until he filled her, root and stem.

He kissed her hard and pulled most of the way out of her in a smooth, fluid motion. It was a sharp moment of loss and anticipation as she waited for him, trying to distract herself by kissing him more frantically.

As they each took their next deep breathe, he thrust himself back inside her, this time harder and more completely than before. It was all of him, all at once, and it felt so incredible she swore her cry echoed along the rooftops. Did the guests below suddenly grow silent?

She imagined them looking around awkwardly, wondering if it was their imagination and counting the number of drinks they had. He laughed quietly, clearly happy with his results.

She braced her hands on his muscular shoulders and he pulled out for an extended moment to look into her eyes. Playful and passionate, he thrust himself back inside her hard, enjoying the ecstasy on her face and pulling her lower lip playfully.

Finally, blissfully, he started a rhythm inside her. The friction between them made her sex shiver as he slid against her. He drove his hips in circles for a moment and they both gasped at the new sensations he created by the movement.

Their kiss was now fierce and she moaned into his lips as her body rocked with his. He suddenly broke his rhythm and gave such a hard thrust that she cried out into his waiting lips, pausing for a beat before starting up again.

He drove into her again and again until she was ready for him. She anticipated his hard thrusts and ground into him in response.

If she was a fortress, she _needed_ his battering ram. She laughed at her own stupid analogy, and his dark and dreamy eyes searched hers questioningly. Woops, had she laughed aloud?

He must have felt momentarily insecure because he deftly moved one of his hands until she felt his two middle fingers rub teasingly against her clit.

Oh God, as if she needed _more_ stimulation. She shivered hard as his fingers thrummed and vibrated against her again, all the while maintaining his perfect rhythm inside her.

Over and over again, as his fingers flew over her clit and his cock drove hard and steady inside her, his dazzling pace built a new brilliant kernel of pleasure inside her.

His steady motion was like clockwork. Her body stiffened as the kernel reached an aching pitch, ready to erupt, and Jacob seemed to already know her cues.

He pumped harder and faster, driving into her with renewed force. Her lips stopped working and her whole body started to hum in a new, unexpected way. His expression was fierce and determined as he watched her, kissing her absently as he focused on her.

She breathed his name into his ears, grasping his shoulders hard. With a few more long and smooth strokes that reached impossibly deep inside her, she clenched around him until her orgasm blossomed and careened through her body.

He didn't stop or slow down even as her body shook wave after wave against him. He drove into her even harder, again and again, extending her orgasm until she felt ready to fall apart. His motion inside her and against her was so blinding she saw stars behind her closed eyes and each breath was a labored gasp.

Incredibly over-stimulated, a new orgasm shocked her as he showed no signs of letting her rest. This one wasn't a slow build and she clawed at his back and cried out as it's intensity roared through her on the heels of the last one.

It broke a flood gate inside her, and orgasm after orgasm coursed through her. As one died down another followed close behind, an impossible tide the likes of which she'd never experienced. Her whole body was a font of pleasure until it was too much to bear, until she felt she would explode.

When would he stop? Don't. Stop. He seemed insatiable, his resilience nearly impossible. Through her hazy perception, lost in a fog, she thought her last arching convulsion had finally put him in a new found frenzy. He plunged inside her erratically, loosing his rhythm for a moment and pausing to regain focus.

"Fuck." He was too far gone and he groaned into her ear as his whole body finally stiffened and he thurst inside her hard and in sync with his release. He carried her over the edge one final time and her body arched against him for her last climax.

Panting hard against each other, their limbs weak and slick, she slowly felt herself sink down with him as he crumbled to the roof top. His cock was still firm and deep inside her as they sat and caught their breath.

"Holy shit," she whispered breathlessly into his ear, her arms still wrapped around her neck. They were a tangle of arms and legs and he took long hard breathes where he rested his head in her shoulder.

It gave her no small amount of satisfaction that she could get this roof climbing assassin warrior to lose his breathe and composure.

"Who the fuck _are_ you," she joked, running her hands beneath his shirt and along his smooth, heavily muscled back. She lifted her hips ever so slightly and felt him slip out of her.

He looked mildly irritated that she had separated them so quickly, and she wondered what the hell else he had in mind. She scootched back and rested against the chimney again, completely separating them.

"You know," he started, leaning back to brace himself on his arms, his cock waving in the air immodesty. She shook her head at his cockiness... Pun intended. "A couple of thousand years ago, I would've been descended from _gods_." He blew on his knuckles, pretending to shine them on his chest.

She had started buttoning up her shirt and arched a brow at him. She had guessed as much earlier. "Is that right? Like Perseus?“

“Is that the one who killed the gorgon?“

“Yeah.... "

“Yes, like _him_. Or Hercules!"

"No, not Hercules." She stood up to go retrieve her precarious placed pants behind them. "He actually had to do productive things, _twelve_ things in fact."

He provided her with an exaggerated look of disgust as he stood up and reached for his own pants. "What about Achilles? That one was a righteous son of a bitch. Like _me_."

She laughed as she pulled on her pants and tucked herself back in. "Sure, if you want to be the servant of death for some egomaniacal king. And if you want to be remembered in anatomical history for your shit heel."

She glanced at him as he none too gracefully struggled to get his pants on. He hobbled on one foot, and then hopped onto the next.

He sighed in resignation. "Fine. Perseus it is then."

She walked over to him and grinned broadly as he struggled to tuck his shirt tails in. She wrapped her arms around his waist and started to tuck him in from behind. He gave up entirely, and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"You know, you joke, but I'll bet anything they were all real at some point. Minerva, Juno, they all were. Perhaps their direct descendants left their mark on history as well."

Jacob shrugged, distracted by her closeness and tryed to kiss her again. She quickly moved her head as he got closer but when he missed her lips, he settled for her neck and shoulders.

"I'm serious. Maybe there's a reason all the "gods" are promiscuous dogs while their demigod children are all heroes. I'll bet…. " She took his face in her hands and kissed him quickly. "I'll bet they were all assassins."

She winked at him and finished buttoning him up and smoothed him down. Stepping away and looking him over, he was the picture of new English money.

"Honestly, Jacob, who the hell dressed you tonight? You're all thumbs."

To her surprise, he smiled bashfully. "Sister," he muttered so she could barely make it out. She grinned at his hesitation and found it strangely endearing. She tilted the top hat he had worn the entire time, letting it canter ever so slightly. He looked _fantastic_ in it.

"There's nothing wrong with a man needing a woman to make him look good. I bet she's lovely."

"She can be interesting every once in a while," he muttered dismissively.

He leaned in then and kissed her sweetly, his arms wrapping warmly around her again and lifting her ever so slightly off the roof. She loved the power that emanated from his body and person, and for all their joking, there was little doubt who his ancestors were.

So lost in their embrace, she could've stayed up on the roof with him all night, feeling his warmth and keeping well away from the realities of the world beneath them. But she pulled away and looked at him.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Jacob," she whispered, looking deeply into his eyes one final time. "I trust we'll meet again soon."

"On another rooftop perhaps? Maybe even _prearranged_?“ he hinted.

"I think not, my friend. But we'll see eachother again."

She kissed him quickly and backed away slowly. That's when she noticed what he was missing.

"Hey, don't forget your coat up here. Otherwise you look like an underdressed hooligan and they'll never let you back into the party."

He looked down as if realizing he was missing it. "Oh shit, yeah, it's back in the ballroom garden."

She shook his head seriously. "Be careful you don't get caught. These parties are fun, but guests usually keep their feet on the _ground_."

She winked and turned away from him, walking quickly towards her destination. She heard him call after her with laughter in his voice and a hint of haughtiness.

"I'm a _demigod_ , remember? What could happen?“


	8. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie finds herself caught in Stanton's clutches, revealing hints of greater mysteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a weirdly hard chapter to write, but I got fed up. I'm sorry if it doesn't flow as smoothly as prior chapters. 
> 
> WARNING for mild unpleasant touching.
> 
> Anyone enjoying the story that wants to be my beta, offers are welcome!

Evie was horrified when Stanton forced her to dance until the music ended, glowering down at her with a wicked grin and relishing her discomfort.

Her skin crawled where his hand held her firmly by the waist, and she looked fruitlessly for Jacob in the crowd as they spun around the room. Whatever _twinstinct_ they had _really_ needed to work right now, but he was nowhere to be seen. Although obviously, Stanton had.

With the waltz ended, the hustle and bustle of the party guests was exactly what Stanton needed to force Evie quietly out of the ballroom without being noticed.

He must have made some signal that she missed, because in a moment they were followed closely behind by three well dressed henchmen with hands tucked away to weapons at their hips.

She could've taken them all down in a moment. If she had a weapon. Without a weapon, the struggle would be long and hard. She could still succeed on skill alone, but she _was_ wearing an unwieldy gown without a stitch of armor. In an overly crowded party.

It would ultimately be a loosing battle, and she didn't know whether Stanton would just stop at restraining her again, or end up seriously wounding her.

So she went quietly and seethed. At Stanton for almost, _almost,_ convincing her he was a higher intellectual being than his Templar cohorts. At herself for not preparing for a situation like this and at _least_ tucking a blade away into her bodice.

And _especially_ at Jacob for being so careless. She couldn't know what Stanton saw, but jumping _off_ of the roof was not a normal thing. He couldn't be cautious and careful for a _few_ hours? She was already sick of running around cleaning up his messes and now he had managed to design this particular mess for _her_. He put her at risk and she would berate him _forever_ when she got out of this.

_When_ being a key term. She wasn't sure how yet, but she knew she had to get out of this.

Stanton lead them through the crowded rooms, slipping them easily between groups of guests, smiling kindly and chatting with people that stopped them. Evie now noticed attributes that she had misread before. He was a _master_ manipulator and a great showman.

He gleaned information from people with pats on the backs, jokes and stories, but most of all, he listened. He gave everyone the same attention whether they were complaining about their latest tailor or if a family member had died.

He was so extremely compassionate and empathetic that Evie almost believed him. People _wanted_ to tell him everything, and they did. In the span of ten minutes, while she stood there as his hostage no less, he had learned of discord between two new powerful families in London and which family members had _questionable_ moral judgement.

Evie didn't miss the spark in his eyes. He was already planning on how to get in touch with those members most likely to be sympathetic go the Order's cause.

He played them all for fools. Including her. It was a great game to him that only further inflated his egomania.

They continued to make their way through the house until they finally walked through the closed double doors of the library. This particular area was closed off to guests, likely because it didn't have the necessary party atmosphere and too many glasses of wine found themselves on rare editions.

The five of them entered the room without incident, and as the door sealed shut, a hush filled the space. Soundproofed then? To give Murdoch peace and quiet while he worked, no doubt. How bloody _perfect_.

Nobody moved and Evie's body went rigid as she expected to be manhandled by Stanton's goons. She wasn't mistaken.

Stanton gestured to a nearby chair but before she could move a step of her own accord, one of them moved behind her and roughly grasped both of her wrists.

She sat down heavily and he tied her swiftly and securely to the back. He took the extra step of tying her ankles down too, guessing correctly that her legs were as deadly as her hands.

She flexed her muscles to get an idea of how tight her bindings were and determined they would be impossible to break free from quickly.

Evie's mind raced through options as she came to terms with being more or less stuck here. The library was darkened since it wasn't in use, and a few candles flickered behind glass cases around the walls. The walls must all have been sound proofed too since not a single sound from the surrounding party made its way inside.

So her environment wasn't much of a help, and as she twitched her wrists and ankles again, she conceded that breaking free _discreetly_ wasn't an option either.

Well, Evie had her dignity at least. Instead of scrambling to free herself or even appearing remotely afraid, she maintained her composure as Stanton regard her silently. She sat stiffly with her back straight and tall and her face devoid of all expression.

Stanton wouldn't get any satisfaction from seeing her squirm. So she waited.

He clasped his hands behind his back and stood with his legs set firmly apart before her. It was almost a military stance, and he looked down at her from the tip of his nose to add an extra flair of condescension.

"Miss _Frye_." He watched her intently, peering to see if there were cracks in her visage he could use to his advantage. He spoke slowly and chose his words carefully.

“You have caused me a _world_ of inconvenience since you broke into my vault. It was an excellent caper, it truly was. You should be proud to have exploited my home's weakness so easily." He smiled thinly, like he really was reluctantly impressed.

"Now. I don't know you. You don't know _me_. But I _do_ know you killed Thorne in cold blood to learn the location of the shroud."

He paused and tilted his head as he sized her up. He seemed to contemplate how this richly dressed woman with a sweet smile and honest face had overtaken Thorne and all her men.

“How successful was that for you, finding a key you don't know where to put?“ He twisted his lips in a mocking sneer. "But it tells me that you're dedicated. Passionate. _Fierce_. Qualities I've always looked for in a woman. And you've proven it again tonight by nearly blindsiding me. Another excellent way to exploit me before I knew your face. What _were_ you trying to achieve tonight, may I ask?"

He asked the question innocently enough, like he truly didn't know. She didn't deign to respond, and he seemed to be content doing all of the talking anyway. Evie kept her eyes dark and cold.

"Did you think I would take you _home_? To _my_ home?“ His eyes glittered in mockery and Evie swallowed back a lump in her throat. Yes. Yes, she had.

He reached out and pushed back the same stray lock of hair as before. She stayed rigid and narrowed her eyes at him. She must have given _something_ away in her expression, because his eyes brightened and he grinned, perfect teeth flashing in the dimness.

He lowered himself to crouch before her, his eyes dancing with amusement now. "Oh, darling," he whispered so only she heard him. "You _did_." He said it dotingly, like she was a child who had just done the sweetest thing.

His fingers trailed her cheek and she reflexively flinched away. Turning her head to bite him was her next reflex but that probably wouldn't have been a good idea.

"I _could_ be insulted that you'd think me _so_ naive. That I would bring a woman I just met into my home, my _castle_ , and not just as easily have seduced you in this manor." He leaned in, gazing at her lips and biting his own like some kind of hungry animal. Even his voice became a low growl. "In some far flung corner, perhaps in this very room...."

A chill passed over her. Evie had not even considered carrying it so far. Nightingale's draught was almost sure to work, but she hadn't thought of any backup plans if he did something _stupid_. Like stopped drinking, for instance.

And it seemed impossible that he could overtake her with the way she fought and defended herself _hourly_. Admittedly, she gave men his size a running start before knocking them down, an advantage she didn't have here.

It worried her that more could've gone wrong than she had fully realized.

"No," he continued softly. "I'll choose to think that you're just _very_ sweet and innocent instead. For future reference, darling, stealing a man's heart is far more difficult than piercing it. Particularly mine."

_Had_ she really thought she could do this? Had she actually assumed that he wasn't entirely in control of himself and his most valued possessions? _Normal_ researchers guarded their findings with their lives from intellectual thieves.

"I would have loved a sweeter opportunity than this to convince you that we're actually working towards a common _goal_."

He rubbed her upper arms now, as awkward as they were tied behind her back. He smiled that same charming smile as before but his eyes remained hard.

"Hands off, Stanton." Her first words came out terse and hard, but not with the force she had hoped.

He appeared amused that she had the tenacity to command him in her current position. He arched an eyebrow but abided anyway.

“You see, Miss Frye, our greatest commonality is that you and I have a love for history and _knowledge_."

As much as she wanted to keep silent for his little interrogation, her need to speak up overcame her.

"Yeah? So did Thorne and we weren't exactly best friends."

He laughed and pinched her chin abnoxously hard. "Too true, you were decidedly _not_ eachother's favorite. But Lucy was a different sort. She always fought to prove herself to the world and to Crawford. She was so busy throwing her weight around and reminding people of her power, she lost sight of the _beauty_ of what she uncovered."

"And what? _You_ seek knowledge just for the sake of it? I find that hard to believe. But your philosophy doesn't matter when your intentions are the same. And those _intentions_ are where Thorne and I disagreed."

"My intentions? What do you know of my intentions?“

Evie remarked on the concerned expression that quickly flitted across his face, but brushed it away.

"Same as they've always been, you _swine_." The venom entered her tone against her will. "World domination. New world order. Control. Obedience. Pick the fucking term for yourself."

He nodded absently, as if she had just come up with a brilliant idea he hadn't thought of.

"And how do you suppose I would _achieve_ such a thing?“

His question was ridiculous because they both knew how. Whatever new Piece of Eden he thought the map lead to would evade him now anyway.

"You _won't_ actually. No map, no Piece of Eden." She smiled at him, knowing she had the upper hand _there_ at least.

And then she saw his expression and changed her mind.

"Piece of Eden?" His look was _pitying_ and he clucked his tongue like some old mother hen. "Oh, you Assassins have no imagination. To still think so _small_ all these centuries later, it must be so tiring. "

_What?_ What had she missed? Evie furrowed her brow, confused by what he was implying.

He patted her knee sympathetically and straightened up. His demeanor was relaxed now and instead of pacing, he more or less strolled around the space in front of her.

Great. Apparently she had put him at ease now too. This just got better and better.

"You and I know enough history to know that it repeats itself, for better or for worse," he started conversationally. He gestured expansivly around them, at the world in general.

"But yet, even with our insights, we find ourselves at _another_ impass tonight. It's the same story through the ages. But do you think _any_ of the advances in our great Empire would be possible if anarchy reigned here? If the masses were left to their own devices?"

He asked her the question in earnest, and he watched her expression closely for her honest answer.

Evie immediately thought of Mr. Bell and what wonders his genius had brought to life. Wonders that _wouldn't_ exist if he wasn't the man he was, if he was a man oppressed by a larger power.

"Anarchy versus complete control? Are those my two options?“ she asked synically. "Freedom and anarchy are two very different things. _'Is freedom anything else than the right to live as we wish?'_ "

Stanton quirked the corner of his mouth in a wry smile. So he knew Epictetus? He _did_ read.

"Yes, but _'Man is free at the moment he_ wishes _to be'_ , my dear. How many people _truly_ wish such a thing?“

His eyes saddened for a moment and Evie couldn't begin to imagine what was going through his mind. He was trying to make her see his point of view by having this discussion but she had no idea why he was even bothering.

"You know as well as I that there needs to be _some_ semblance of order. You want to call it world domination, I could call it government. Power has varying degrees of evil, but it is no less necessary."

He casually sauntered towards a tall bookshelf and his fingers reverently passed along the spines of the leather tomes, perusing the titles.

"But the system could always be made better. By taking the map from me, you've only limited that potential. In limiting my knowledge, you have limited your own. I can only assume that you're here tonight to seek the aid of Julian Murdoch. There is no doubt that he's a learned man," and he gestured at the books crowding the shelves around them.

"And he knows a great deal about Reis and our blood soaked history. But I _assure_ you, Mr. Murdoch is _not_ the man who can help you with this. Reis was not interested in small secrets, Miss Frye, and thinking small is all Julian does."

He looked absolutely sincere as he walked back towards her and crouched again. The way his eyes watched her, big and round and honest, she could have called it pleading if she didn't know better. His face was even momentarily handsome again.

"Miss Frye, we can work together for the first time in our history. Reis' map needs both of us to uncover it's secrets. If only you return my prized possession to me, I will not deny you the chance to study it."

His voice was impassioned but Evie met his intensity with a countering coolness.

“You know, Mr. Stanton," she started agreeably. "Your offer is tempting and your methods of persuasion are admirable. "

Evie gave him her sweetest girlish smile and shrugged casually.

"While I'm sure tying them up works marvelously well on your other lady friends, _vous n'avez pas de chance avec moi_. I'm afraid I'll have to pass on your offer to collude with my enemy. "

She cocked her head and batted her eyes playfully, her lips curled in a sardonic smile.

In hindsight, she'd never be able to explain what had provoked her. Maybe it was the way the bindings cut into her flesh, or the bitter memory of their kisses in a shadowy hallway. Her anger at Jacob had faded as she now faced the consequences of her own carelessness.... Father would not have been proud.

What was done, was done.

The mood in the room changed in an instant. Stanton's eyes darkened as he stood up again. He regarded her intensly for a long moment, silent and menacing. She noted a vein starting to pulse in his temple and a red flush creep up his neck.

The tension between them mounted as they studied eachother. Evie felt her heart thumping so hard in her chest she thought it might actually be visible. She noted the tingling in her fingers as they started to go numb. The only sounds was her shallow breathe and a clock ticking away the long seconds somewhere in the dimness.

Evie prepared herself for the man before her to fly into a fit of frustrated rage. She could practically hear his teeth grinding as she watched him clench the muscles in his strong jaw.

His voice came out low and strained, almost a growl.

"Miss Frye, I would highly recommend that you do not test my patience this evening. Do not mistake my verbosity for kindness. You will speak before the evening is over."

And before she realized it, his flush disappeared and he clenched his fists just once before exhaling a slow and steadying breathe.

The ease with which he changed his mood unnerved her. She almost preferred a raging lunatic over this stoic mask that stood before her.

Evie felt her throat suddenly dry up and she swallowed thickly. Who was this man really? How much worse than Thorne could he be?

His brief smile was thin and cruel, twisting his face and never reaching his eyes. The next he spoke, his tone was conversational but the hard lines of his features remained unmoving.

"You know, Miss Frye, the world marveled at the telegraph and photograph not long ago. The Underground is a marvel today and tomorrow there will be something new entirely."

He looked at her thoughtfully and spoke as he crouched down before her again.

"There is no doubt they are all great feats of engineering and genius. And all borne of necessity. But as I uncover the history of humanity, there is one necessity that has never been fulfilled and has perhaps provoked the most creative solutions.

"Learning the _truth_ ," he whispered. "It's amazing how such an amorphous thing can be so sought after."

His eyes searched hers, perhaps looking for a truth there she hoped she wasn't giving away.

"I know there are great histories written by great men but so much is lost to pomp and embellishment. It's always what we _want_ to hear. And it is _always_ written by the winners."

He watched her, peered at her, in a way that was far more violating than his hands were. Evie felt the starkness of her vulnerability more sharply than ever.

"You see, Miss Frye, I want to hear what the _losers_ have to say," he whispered.

What could he do to her _here_? At a party full of people who would surely hear her scream?

"Parties are such excellent venues, in case you're wondering. What's a _moan_ of pain verus one of pleasure? What's a stifled scream that doesn't blend harmoniously with the notes of an orchestra? Lucky for you, in case you're not musically inclined, our current room is soundproofed."

He winked at her and Evie's heart pounded in her ears as she heard the deafening silence in the room again. She couldn't hide her anxiety now, and her eyes widened in fear. He spoke like he'd done this before and she couldn't begin to imagine what he planned.

She started to frantically twist her wrists so her fingers could find purchase on the rope that bound her. She no longer hid her efforts and strained as he watched on with bored amusement.

She spoke through clenched teeth as she fought against her restraints.

"You won't get a _word_ out of me, Stanton. That map was written by a Master Assassin and it belongs _with_ an assassin. You're bluffing if you think you know what Reis intended."

Stanton smiled pityingly.

"You think so, Miss Frye," he stated quietly. "You don't think I've found more answers than the one you stole from me?"

He extended his hand out behind him, palm up. One of his men stepped forward and pulled something from the inside of his coat. It glimmered metallic as he handed the object to Stanton, and Evie's breathe caught in her throat.

A twisted pair of pliers shone in the light as he slowly turned it this way and that. Both ends were a cruel point and so flush together a hair couldn't slip between them.

"The imagination that went into some of the mechanisms I have found are truly _astounding_."

He pointedly admired the pliers while Evie suddenly felt them as a third presence in their conversation.

"Did you know you could split a person in half with nothing but a wooden wedge and some ankle weights? That was a favorite for women. It truly is quite _fascinating._ "

Evie's breathe became very shallow and it was only with a great effort that she looked at Stanton again. Were they for her eyes? Nose? Would he really dare?

"We are such soft creatures," he whispered, "Tell me, how _badly_ do you want to keep your secrets, Evie?“

His voice was low and almost seductive. Hearing him say her name for the first time sent an unpleasant chill down her back. Yes, this man _would_ dare. She hadn't realized she was holding her breathe until she gasped quietly.

"How _valuable_ is that map to you really? Because it's valuable to me. So valuable that _I_ would do almost anything to obtain it from you _with_ your additional insight on what you saw when you opened it."

So that was it. He knew that only Assassins with the sense could see what was on the map. It was probably why Stanton would have preferred to work together in the first place.

Evie didn't respond. She couldn't trust that her voice wouldn't crack if she did, even though defiance seemed so futile now.

"You have _many_ great assets that you value, don't you, Miss Frye? What would you say is your greatest?"

To her horror, Stanton snaked a hand under her skirts, sliding his cold fingers up her calf and squeezing it. His eyes stayed locked on her, daring her to say something, and his face twisted in a sneer at her helplessness.

"Is it your speed? I hear you ran like the wind from my home that night."

If her feet weren't bound to the legs of the chair, she would have kicked him hard enough to cave his nose into his skull. As it was, her powerful muscles could only flex instinctively against his fingers in warning.

"I know." He said it like an epiphany, and he slid his hand down her bare arm to her hands bound behind her. "Your hands. _Those_ killing, loving, _thieving_ hands are your greatest asset. Don't they allow you and your brother to climb London like damn great _apes_?"

He had a heat to his voice and he practically spat the last word. His face was so close to her, leaning in to reach her hands behind her back, that she was seconds away from biting his nose clean off. Instead she said through her teeth, “It seems you've been speaking to Mr. Darwin."

"Darwin!“ Stanton laughed maniacally for the first time. He moved the point of the pliers to within an inch of her eye, and Evie held her breathe and leaned back.

"Darwin knows shit all." He opened and closed the pliers slowly, letting the light glint off of the sharp tip before they disappeared behind her back.

"There is nothing _natural_ about our selection, Miss Frye. Humanity was _bred_ to be great. Forged from fire and destruction, made to outlast even our Creators. And some of us... ."

She felt him place the sharp point beneath her fingernail, pushing steadily between her nail and the soft flesh beneath. He was going to tear them off, one by one.

Evie felt a scream rise in her throat as he pinched the tip of her nail firmly. The pain streaked through her hand as a drop of blood fell into her palm.

"... The _best_ of us. We were made to be _Gods_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone knows French well, please let me know if I was way off!! :-) Thanks for reading!!


	9. Thieves and Liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI Rebecca fixed the glitched naughty chapter 7. If you're not into smut, it only loosely ties into this one and is purely optional. :-)

"Your ignorance, Edward, is once again, quite _astonishing_."

The gentle, cultured voice behind them startled them both, and Stanton abruptly released her hand. Pain still pulsated under her nail, but Evie exhaled a sigh of relief anyway. _This_ was the best timing of her life.

Stanton's three henchmen were now joined by three new well dressed gentlemen, each a beautiful figure to Evie's eyes thanks to the blades they were pointing at each of their throats.

The man that stood with them cut an even more dashing figure for all his old English charm. His well groomed hair was perfectly white and matched his neatly groomed white beard. His rose kissed cheeks and brilliant blue eyes gave him a very warm and friendly appearance, and Evie imagined Santa Claus had just rescued her. Santa with a change in wardrobe and a strict diet anyway.

Stanton straightened and turned to face the new stranger.

"Ah, Julian. It took you long enough to find us, old boy." Stanton splayed his hands before him in surrender, but the sarcasm dripped from his voice no less. "How _ever_ did you manage with those _old_ ears and eyes of yours?“

Julian Murdoch's gait was tall and proud as he strode over to them, and his general demeanor belonged to a man thirty years his junior. So this was the master of this magnificent castle? He was as she refined as she had pictured. A decorative cane hung from his arm, and Evie mused at the potential blade tucked inside. A man after her own heart, if so.

Murdoch and Stanton stood head to head, Stanton veritably towering over his nemesis in height and broadness, but Murdoch was in no way phased by him. He tilted his chin up defiantly and raised his white eyebrows expectantly. The overall impression was of an elderly father about to scold his son.

“You should know better, Edward. My eyes and ears are all around us." His voice had a sharp edge to it, and Evie guessed he had a dark side like the rest of the assassins. Murdoch's eyes were still locked on Stanton and without even sparing her a glance, he indicated to one of his men to untie Evie.

Evie felt the blood rush back to her fingers, still tingling madly, and gave her ankles a quick rub. She glanced at her finger quickly, which was still throbbed from the ghostly pain of having her nail almost pryed off. A quick glance showed it was all there except for the raging red flesh and blood bubbling beneath. Nothing a clean needle and bandage couldn't take care of, but she'd have to watch that she didn't slam it _directly_ into Stanton's nose when she got around to it.

Now that her limbs were free, all she _wanted_ to do was charge at him and twist his neck between her arms. Ever muscle in her body was coiled like a cat ready to pounce, but she held back and waited for the two men to spar off; verbally since physically seemed out of the question.

Murdoch took a moment to offer her a kindly glance, as if knowing she was respectfully not killing this man in his home. But behind his kind eyes, she noted a hint of shrewd calculation there too. Was it directed at her?

In her haste to appreciate her savior, she hadn't stopped to think how it looked, being introduced to him in this way. Henry had pulled a fair few amount of strings to get them here tonight, maybe even embellishing some facts about her, as he was wont to. It was sweet and all, but they could be high standards to meet, and Murdoch had found her tied to a chair, clearly _not_ able to handle herself.

If she wasn't kicking herself enough already for tonight's brashness, this _really_ was the final nail in the coffin. She must stop spending so much time with Jacob.

Where _was_ her brother anyway?

"I must ask, Edward. Do you truly think the mysteries Piri has in store for us will grant you that kind of power?“

Stanton smiled cooly and shrugged. "You know me, old chap. My hunt for knowledge is _insatiable_ , and I won't rest until I know for sure." He turned a malevolent grin towards Evie and her fists clenched tightly. "I suppose my limitless curiosity got the best of me _tonight_ , however."

"Its not your curiosity I'm concerned about, young man." Murdoch narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "It's your methods. You would be wise to learn that all that glitters in this world is not gold."

Murdoch's voice lowered then in warning. "Piri understood the art of war, but he also understood the art of patience, the cartographer's most useful tool. You seek to steal knowledge, Edward, not earn it for yourself. Trust me when I say that the most valuable secrets are also the most dangerous, and they are best left buried."

Stanton let out a pompous guffaw, holding his stomach like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He added to his mockery by placing a heavy hand on Murdoch's shoulder, nearly making him buckle at the knees.

"Oh, Julian. Leave things _buried_? What kind of a hack archeologist _are_ you? Everything buried in the earth and forgotten is _ours_ to take, old man. You're as much a thief as I am. Hell, museums themselves are _vaults_ of stolen history."

Stanton turned, grinning at Evie and pointing at Murdoch. "Is this the man you've come to for answers? The one who doesn't want to seek them himself? Good luck to you both!"

He really had some gall to insult a man in his own home. Murdoch narrowed his eyes and used his cane to shove Stanton's hand off his shoulder.

“You know _exactly_ what I mean, Julian. You're not fooling anyone by pretending _human_ history is what interests you.”

“And you seem to think _shrouds_ and artifacts interest me, Julian. The throw away refuse of the First Ones? You're as bad as the girl.”

There he went again, implying something bigger than Pieces of Eden. It frustrated Evie to no end and her curiosity was almost unbearable. Murdoch didn't seem to catch his implication, or he most likely was choosing not to take the bait.

Stanton's reference to her seemed to awaken Julian to her presence, and he now turned to Evie.

"Miss Frye, please accept my deepest apologies for this evening. Templar _dogs_ , even disillusioned and delirious ones, usually obey me under my roof. Unfortunately, it would seem the bone you have in your possession is too good to pass up."

Gesturing civilly with his cane towards Stanton, he asked, "How do you propose I make it up to you?"

Evie now turned her sweetest smile to her host. She was ever so pleased he had _asked_. She knew her warm outward appearance always played to her advantage, freckles and all, and this was her chance to make up for all of her missteps this evening. This was her chance to impress.

She clasped her hands before her and stepped gracefully, swaying her hips ever so slightly, to stand before Murdoch. Extending a hand, she shook his hand firmly and as businesslike as any man would.

"Mr. Murdoch. May I start by saying that it is truly a pleasure to meet you. Henry has told me some excellent stories about you and your family, but they do little to fully describe the grandeur of you or your home."

"Thank you, my dear," he accepted pleasantly. "You and your brother caught my attention almost immediately upon your arrival. Your quick and thorough liberation of Whitechapel was quite commendable and I hear you're well on your way to liberating the other boroughs. It would seem the Frye twins are here to stay."

As if on cue, a loud crash echoed in the room as both doors to the library flew open. Jacob stood with both hands still extended out to either door and surveyed the room quickly.

Evie surveyed him in turn and shook her head thoughtfully. Why did he look _rumpled_? And harried and disheveled too? It looked like he had just run across half of London. Or had he _actually_ succeeded in finding his entertainment between some woman's breasts tonight?

Arching a brow and crossing her arms, she looked as annoyed as possible, and decided she'd have to contend with the fact that she _had_ given him the idea to go make merry this evening. That he had actually succeeded was no less annoying, however.

He stalked forward in the way only he could stalk, and placed both of his hands on her bare shoulders. "Evie! Are you alright? I looked everywhere for you."

The worry in his hushed question was genuine, and she twitched her mouth to one side skeptically.

"Seriously, Jacob? Maybe you actually _do_ have an aversion to books," she remarked coolly. She wasn't sure if she had forgiven him, now that he was here, but she _certainly_ wasn't getting warm and fuzzy either.

"What did he do to you?“ Jacob urged on, ignoring her jibe and glaring at Stanton. Evie knew if he had his assassin's blades, she'd be hearing the sweet silvery sound of metal detracting from its shealth.

His fists were clenched to either side, much as hers had been earlier, and he looked ready for a fight. While her brother was closer to Stanton in size and muscle, she'd have to talk him down pretty quickly if she was going to get her shot in. And she _did_ want her's to be the _only_ shot in after what Stanton did to her.

"Mr. Murdoch, may I introduce my brother, Jacob." Jacob looked around, startled at the other man who stood nearby. He seemed bewildered that they had more company and that he was being civilly introduced to him at a time like this.

"Ah, yes, Jacob Frye." Murdoch extended his hand and he stood there for an awkward few seconds before Jacob shook it. "You are quite the _prolific_ gang leader if my sources are accurate. Fair, but doling out justice with swift integrity. And your work on Starrick's Simple Syrup was excellent. That whole affair needed a swift resolution without the red tape of law and due process! You have really done quiet well for yourself here."

Evie arched her brow skeptically at these _very_ kind words describing her brother and couldn't help but wonder at their source. Was Jacob spreading rumors about _himself_ now? She visibly noticed some of the tension leave his shoulders at all this praise and couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Did you hear that, Evie? _I'm_ prolific. Who _are_ you? I _like_ you." Jacob grinned and shook Murdoch's hand more enthusiastically the second time.

Stanton coughed to bring attention back to himself, clearly bored with where the conversation was going. For Evie's part, she had to get the conversation back on track and learn as much as she could from these easily distracted men.

She stepped forward again, past Jacob and towards Murdoch. "Mr. Murdoch, you asked how best we can rectify the little situation that has occurred here. While my brother _is_ known for his unconventional methods, I'd rather like to try and obtain the information I am seeking from Mr. Stanton in a more civilized manner."

"Evie?!" Jacob blurted in exasperation. "Now is not the time for civilities."

"Au contrare, dear brother. The answers I want can be provided willingly enough."

Evie stepped up to Stanton calmly, a small smile curling her lips. While he had intimidated her, mocked her, and hurt her, she'd be damned if she didn't stay the picture of calm composure.

He glared at her as she approached but didn't dare make a move against her. Murdoch held more sway over him than he cared to let on.

“Mr. Stanton. I believe you mentioned during our nice chat earlier, and again just now, that there was more to the map than what I have in my possession--."

"Correction, Miss Frye. What you _stole_ from _my_ possession."

"Oh come off it, Edward," Murdoch chimed in. "The woman got the best of you, be a smart chap and grow a pair."

Evie looked surprised at Murdoch who grinned at her and encouraged her to continue. Well, so much for refined, old English charm.

"Thank you, Mr. Murdoch. Yes, Edward, your resentment is in rather poor taste. Now, please elaborate for everyone here what you told me. What more is there to the map? What more do you think it leads to?“

Stanton laughed in her face, loud and hard, and with utter contempt. She clenched her fists tightly but kept her smile and eyebrow arched. "Do you truly think I'll tell you anything, Frye whore? That you've earned the _right_ to my hard earned work? You're as daft as your parents, from what I hear. That reminds me, didn't you and this one _kill_ your dear mother? It appears weakness runs--,"

The loud crack as Evie's powerful fist landed on Stanton's nose echoed throughout the room. Her movement was so fast that all that anyone really saw was her arm still poised upright from her punch, and Stanton doubled over with blood gushing through the fingers held to his nose.

"You! Bitch!“ His voice came out nasally and muffled, and he looked close to tears.

Evie couldn't help but smile wider. Now _that_ was satisfying. She really needed to punch him again for talking about their mother though.

Before she could repeat her question ever so nicely, another voice interrupted them, this time female with the smoothness of honey. "I thought I smelled blood in here. What is all this now, Julian?“

Slightly annoyed at this _second_ interruption and vaguely wondering how much more crowded the room could get, Evie joined the others in turning to their new guest.

The woman that walked in was so remarkably beautiful that Evie did a double take. She wore a brilliant gown of red and gold that made her shimmer and sparkle as she stepped into the dimly lit room. Her hair was long and black, curling luxuriantly around her shoulders and down her back. Evie guessed she was Indian from her features and lightly bronzed skin. Her large dark almond eyes would've been a painter's dream come true as well.

The woman turned to Murdoch who bowed low and kissed her proffered gloved hand with a familiar grace. Stanton still held his nose but looked up in surprise at the newcomer. And her brother....

What was wrong with _him_?

His mouth was comically agape and Evie shook her head at how easy he could be distracted. She was stunning, but it hardly accounted for the way his eyebrows shot up and his eyes were about to pop out. The woman turned to both of them and nodded her acknowledgment.

She then turned to Murdoch and spoke again in her rich tones. "So, it would it appear our little truce has been broken this evening?“ she asked sweetly, more an observation than a question.

"Indeed, Miss Ambrose. I must say, I expected it to last a bit longer than this."

"Oh, you know how it is, Julian. Theory is all well and good until you get to the practice of the thing."

She stepped over to Jacob who finally had the presence of mind to close his mouth, and extended her hand for him to kiss as well. He did so, still stunned, but with a suave grace Evie had to give him credit for. The woman smiled at him sweetly, and Evie was immediately suspicious. Especially since Jacob looked ready to fall all over her.

"These two must be the remarkable Frye twins. It's an honor. Mia Ambrose." She stepped over to Evie and extended her hand in a handshake which Evie hesitantly accepted. "Your reputations proceed you."

She stepped back and surveyed the group with an air of authority, evaluating the situation while Murdoch appeared to have shrunk away a little. Evie couldn't begin to suspect where this was going. Was this woman friend or foe? Why hadn't Henry mentioned her?

"Miss Frye, I really must apologize for so rudely interrupting you. You see, while Starrick commands the city out _there_ , we small players, or small _Frye_ ," and she paused at that to smile at her own pun, "we must make the system work to our advantage in _here_. We still have lives to live, with or without this war. There are few places in this city that are neutral ground, where bygones can be bygones. This house, these parties, are one of those places."

She stepped over to Stanton then, grimacing at the blood that still flowed freely through his fingers. Evie had most definitely broken it.

"It appears Edward got what was coming to him, for breaking that very deliberate peace tonight. Inadequate Templar that he is.…" She took a step closer to him and he inexplicably stumbled backwards, trying to avoid the steely glower she aimed like a blade. "Big and strong men who are nothing but _weak_ , using torture and pain as a device to overpower women who _bested_ them fair and square. It's _disgusting_." She spat the last word in Stanton's face and he visibly flinched.

Whoever she was, she was intimidating Stanton far better than Evie could. Jacob had a small smile on his lips and Evie guessed this just made Miss Ambrose even more appealing.

She turned back to the three of them and smiled dazzlingly. "Now. If we are quite finished playing punch-the-templar, I believe we have business to attend to?"

She strode gracefully towards Evie, or rather, _floated_ over as the silks and folds of her gown moved like liquid around her legs. Evie could now see that her hair was bejeweled with a fine gold net littered with small diamonds. Stupidly wealthy too. Jacob would be set for life if he could snag this one.

She pouted her perfect lips as she regarded Evie closely.

"You _are_ a pretty thing, aren't you? You may have actually succeeded in seducing Stanton tonight, but it wouldn't have been worth it." She leaned in and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. "You'll find nothing interesting in his vault _or_ his pants, I'm afraid."

Suddenly Jacob choked out a loud, gagging cough, like his own spit had caught him by surprise. Ambrose quirked an eyebrow and Evie's suspicion only increased.

"However. I'm afraid he is correct in one regard. The map which you stole is his property, and rightly belongs to him."

The silence that followed her words was thick and heavy. Another enemy was in their midst, and this one had so eloquently played them, if for a moment. Her brother's expression had quickly gone from shock to anger as his eyes darkened considerably. His jaw was clenched and he stood with his leading leg in front, ready to attack.

"We also know you are here seeking Julian's assistance, but a _verbal_ explanation of your problem hardly seems possible. So you must have brought _something_ with you tonight to aid in your bid for assistance?“

Again it was more of a statement then a question and Evie clenched her fists again.

"Edwards methods are undeniably barbaric, but Miss Frye, I must insist you hand over the documents you brought with you tonight. _Please_."

Her _please_ was cloyingly sweet and Evie wanted to give _this_ one a good punch square in her pretty teeth.

Evie asked as sweetly as she could muster, “And what makes you think your methods will be any better than his?”

Evie _did_ have a scroll of the numbers that had appeared to them on the edges of the map, written in plain ink for all to see. But without the map, wouldn't the information be irrelevant anyway? She wouldn't risk giving anything to these horrid people anyway....

Ambrose curled her lips in a conspiratorial smile. “My methods are a little more...shall we say...subtle?” She turned to Murdoch then and gestured at his three guards still holding knives out to their three henchmen.

“Julian knows well that I always come prepared. While you guard your home quite well, good sir, I'm afraid I infiltrate it far better. Miss Frye, we will make this brief because you _will_ hand over your documents. As we speak, I have ten well placed men scattered throughout this lovely party, amidst these lovely guests. These men have orders that if I do not walk out of here in five minutes, they will slaughter at least ten of these guests. I say _at least_ only because they may get _two_ in before Julian's guards take them down.”

She grinned broadly and Evie couldn't recall hating someone morequickly. So _torture_ wasn't her preferred device, but mass murder _was_?

“You wouldn't _dare_ ,” Murdoch interjected, stepping forward. His careful composure was shattered as he realized the full scope of the threat. He was now a man held hostage in his own house.

The woman didn't bother to respond to him, and just watched Evie expectantly. “What do you say, darling? Our time grows short and I estimate I've already wasted three minutes.”

In the library full of tension and silence all Evie could hear was that same bloody clock ticking away the seconds until she wanted to scream.

This was too much. To be ambushed like this when tonight was supposed to be _simple_. The girl in her wanted to kick and scream, bite and claw her way out of this situation, pull at this woman's hair and just _wail_ her senseless.

But what choice did she have? People would die if she didn't do as she was told. Who knows, this woman was so fowl she might do it anyway. But the risk was worse if she ignored her.

“I don't have the map. But I have useless numbers for you if you care so much.” She reached into the space between her breasts and pulled out a tightly wrapped piece of paper. She placed it in Ambrose's outstretched hand.

“What?” Stanton suddenly interjected in surprise, his voice still muffled. “All I had to do was feel you up?”

“Quiet, Edward. Don't be a dog. I am truly glad you saw it my way, Miss Frye.”

Jacob seemed to snap to as well, but instead of a loud rage, she saw something more animalistic in his anger. His teeth were bared and she saw something wild in him that she couldn't remember ever seeing before.

“You're a _fucking_ bitch," was all he was able to growl out.

For whatever reason, it was enough for Ambrose to sashay over to him and stand within a few inches of his menacing expression. "Mr. Frye." Her voice was low and silky, dripping with seductive undertones. “You have _no_ idea."

She suddenly made a a simple gesture that was reminiscent of a master calling her dog, and Stanton followed Ambrose out of the room, leaving with the abundant confidence of soulless Templars.

* * *

Jacob's head was spinning madly as he watched Mia walk out of the room. The ground had teetered when he had seen her again, his heart foolishly fluttering at the beautiful radiance of her presence. Now a cold rock had settled into the pit of his stomach.

He had been _absolutely_ swept away by her, blindly and idiotically assuming she was an ally. How many Templars crept along rooftops, for Christ's sake! Now that he thought about it, she hadn't worn a gauntlet. She had held him to a knife in her hand. And what tailor couldn't fashion a pointy fucking _hood_?

He couldn't even remember if he'd said anything she could use against them. He doubted it but he was pretty sure he'd said his fair share of _stupid_ things.

 _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evie couldn't know. She'd _never_ let him hear the end of it. He'd have to keep this one close to the chest, maybe create a false vendetta against Mia to make it more believable.

Every muscle in his body was clenched, his fists held so tight he nearly broke skin. He felt ready to pounce on someone and just keep punching.

_That bitch, that bitch, that bitch._

It was the only coherent thought that ran through his mind as Evie approached him and searched his face. Her questions were written plainly in her expression, and he arranged his features to be as angry but as indifferent as possible. Mia was just another woman that had waylaid them, not unlike Thorne. He had no personal dog in this fight and he was angry for the greater good of the brotherhood. He'd be able to lie _easily_.

Evie's eyes searched him for a moment longer, regarding him silently but intensely.

"You slept with her, didn't you.“

“Fuck! How do you do that?!”

“Jacob, did you tell her _anything_? Anything about the map or the clues we saw?”

“For fuck's sake Evie, dusty maps don't exactly make for titillating conversation.”

“Jacob….” She had that _tone_ that father had always taken with him, his ever wayward child.

“No. Evie. I _didn't_. I met her, I wooed her, I fucked her and now I want to kill her. Sneaky Templar women...the nerve of her, getting into my pants like that....” He said the last part mostly to himself because Evie had promptly turned away from him and walked towards Murdoch.

It was just the three of them in the room now, and Julian Murdoch had sat down at a large, solid writing desk. He was twisting his cane absent mindedly against the floor and he seemed far away in his thoughts.

Overall, this old man had been a helpless bystander throughout the whole encounter and Jacob was less than impressed. But Evie still needed him for whatever mystifying, magical reason, so he stood aside patiently.

“Mr. Murdoch?” Evie sounded tentative, almost childlike. “I know this looks bad, but there's no risk of them learning anything useful with just those numbers. They mean nothing without the map, which is safe.”

Murdoch looked up as if realizing he wasn't alone. Maybe he _had_ forgotten, he looked old enough. But he responded in a low and steady voice.

“You think so, Miss Frye? I'm afraid you underestimate our enemies. Ambrose and Stanton haven't risen to the likes of Crawford Starrick _yet_ only because he's in the way. They are fully capable young Templars…with the energy of youth on their side.”

“So do we, Mr. Murdoch. We might be young, but you said yourself you're impressed by everything we've already done. We're not lacking in energy or passion for our cause.” She definitely sounded desperate to Jacob's well tuned ears.

Murdoch stood up slowly and regarded them cooly. “I don't think there has ever lived a Templar or an Assassin that didn't have passion. It's a job requirement.…I suppose it's too much to hope for that Mia has a false decoy?”

He nodded as he saw Evie's expression fall in thinly veiled shame. Jacob felt sorry for her. She was always ready for anything, and this time everything unexpected had happened.

“Well, then, my young friends, we can expect our enemies to have the advantage. The resources of their combined forces outmatch mine by leaps and bounds." He sat back down heavily, with the addition of a world weary sigh.

"Will you still help us? I can transcribe the numbers again and return quickly. I made a copy of the map as well, and can show you what Jacob and I see running across it. And when I first encountered it, there was this globe--," but Murdoch's raised hand cut off the beginning of her enthusiastic tirade.

“Wait, what lines are you talking about?“

Evie was practically bouncing on her heels now, and Jacob just held his head in his hand and watched. It was best to give her space when she was like this.…

“When Jacob and I viewed the map with our eagle vision, we noticed fine lines of gold traversing the Piri Reis map. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to them except a few spots where they joined.”

Evie turned to Jacob now, and grinned broadly. “I looked at it again before we came to the party. The lines are so fine and crowded it's hard to tell at first glance but they join in some major locations. I don't quite understand the Caribbean portion, but in Spain, they join near Santiago de Compostela and the Straits of Gibraltar. There's one more on the west end of the map but I don't know that region well enough to name where they meet."

Evie watched Murdoch like a school girl waiting to be praised by her professor. For his part, Murdoch nodded and stroked his beard thoughtfully as a wizened professor ought to.

“The Pillars of Hercules....I take it this map doesn't show much land East of the strait?”

“No, nearly nothing. That part appears to be gone. It's mostly the Atlantic, to tell the truth.”

“Yes, well being a seafarer and a cartographer, it's Piri's natural fondness for both that caused that. You say the lines traverse across the ocean too?“

“Absolutely. Many of them.”

“Without seeing them it's hard to say...but there is speculation that the earth is crossed by thousands of such lines. Whether they were created by our forebears or a natural occurrence, we do not know. I don't know what to make of where you say they meet, however. The Pillars of Hercules are ancient history and Santiago de Compostela has a grand cathedral but that broke ground in the ninth century, nothing ancient about it... _although_ the land would've been sacred prior to that.…”

The last part was barely comprehensible and they lost him after that as he started muttering to himself and concentrated at the floor again.

Evie cast a quick questioning glance at Jacob and he just shrugged, spinning his finger by his ear and pointing at Murdoch. He could very well be one of those rich, eccentric, _crazy_ types. Evie shook her head roughly and cleared her throat.

Murdoch suddenly looked up at them both and shot out of his chair like a much younger man. “I'm afraid I cannot help you.”

“What? But why! You already know more than we do!”

“This is not my area of expertise, Miss Frye. And I'm afraid our enemies may have more information than they've let on. Stanton would have made copies of your map, albeit without these lines. And I wouldn't be surprise if they knew what Piri shows east of the strait." He shook his head regrettably. "No. It's impossible. You'll be fighting a loosing battle starting tonight."

He was starting to back up slowly towards the door, like he needed to avoid them. Jacob saw that Evie had been struck silent by his sudden rejection. It was a long way to fall from her enthusiasm seconds ago.

“Piri was an assassin, Mr. Murdoch," Jacob interjected. "That information was meant for assassin eyes only. We still have an advantage here, anyone else will have a slower time with it.”

“You're advantage is an illusion, Mr. Frye. Answers lay everywhere for them to find and aid them. Do you think if they always needed assassins with the sight, they would've come so close to ruling the world so many times? They _always_ find a way, and I'm afraid I'm not getting involved this time. I haven't lived this long because I pick losing battles.”

What the hell was this? This man seemed to be rolling over for those bastards on a _whim_. Why? Because he was afraid of _risk_? There was absolutely something he wasn't telling them.

“Then you're a coward,” Jacob said angrily. “My sister went through a world of shit to get a hold of information made by a Master Assassin for _us_ , and now you're asking us to just lay down and let _Templars_ have it?”

Murdoch studied them for a moment, as if considering telling them something important.

"I said _I_ cannot help you. It doesn't mean help will not find you." He said it slowly and deliberately, letting his words sink in.

He turned on his heel and started to make his way to the door, speaking over his shoulder as he went.

“Believe me, the things I've found buried and lost makes me wish I'd left well enough alone. Please give Henry my regards and best of luck to you both."

With that, Murdoch promptly shut the double doors of the library behind him and left them both in stunned silence. Just like that, their whole reason for being there had walked out.

“That _prick_!” Jacob felt it was the only thing to say in that painful silence.

“Why did he dismiss us so easily like that?” Evie sounded distant and thoughtful, but it seemed clear enough to Jacob.

“Because he's a _prick_!”

Evie was silent for a moment and Jacob just dismissed the whole night as a massive waste of time. All he had to show for it was a shiny new top hat...and a phenomenal night on a roof top that he quickly needed to forget.

“There's something he's not telling us,” Evie said carefully. “Help will find us?”

“No one is going to help us, Evie. It's the story of our lives. We're magnets for thieves, backstabbers, cheats, and _fucking_ liars." The last betrayal was still obviously raw.

“Jacob, please. You just had a merry old time tonight while I have _this_ to show for it.” She held up her hand and Jacob saw her raging red finger clearly for the first time. His anger flared at Stanton again. “You want a truth tonight? Stanton saw you _jump_ off that roof and figured out who I was."

She paused to let the accusation sink in and Jacob was stunned silent and still as he realized what he had done. He had no idea he'd placed her in such harm's way.... _Fuck_.…

"A half hour ago I might have blamed you for the whole thing, but I screwed up tonight too. But if you would be so kind as to reserve your anger for when your torture is worse than _sex_ on a _roof_ , I'd appreciate it."

By instinct, he took his sister's hands and held the offending finger gingerly to get a closer look. His voice came out shaken and more sincere then he realized it would.

"I'm so sorry, Evie. I really fucked things up this time."

Her eyes softened at the sight of his sincerity, and she suddenly stretched her arms around him to give him a long hug. Or rather, to _get_ a hug. While any sign of affection between them was rare at best, when it did come, there was a very good reason for it. Having your nails almost peeled off was one of those occasions.

"Don't worry, I'll kick your ass for it later." She gave him that bright smile as they pulled apart. One of those smiles that could either irritate him or make him grin back. This time it was the latter.

"It turns out grande galas aren't really my _thing_ , Evie. Next time your boyfriend recommends one of these, he can send himself." They took their time making their way to the exit, arm in arm.

“So what is your _thing_ , dear brother? And don't blame Henry." She was in a mildly better mood, so Jacob responded in kind.

A mischievous smirk crossed his lips.

“I'll give you three guesses. And it involves Templars.”

“Well, we've already learned what _you_ like to do with them."

He threw his head back and groaned. "Ugh, Evie, too soon. Let me live it down for _one_ night.

She laughed out loud cheerfully. “Well, stealing and killing them are two of _my_ personal favorites.”

She gave him a sidelong glance and winked at him. As they reached the door, Jacob swung the doors wide in a large, grandiose gesture.

“My thoughts exactly. What do you say we make things harder for them and take back your little notes? Think you can fight with that finger?"

“Are you kidding me? Did you _see_ Stanton's nose?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the last chapter at this little party. Let's move the fun to the rest of London, shall we? :-) Oh, and don't worry, I'm not going OC crazy, even though this chapter kind of did! 
> 
> Thank you for your patience as I wrapped up this chapter and chapter 7 at the same time. I promise the wait won't always be so long! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Steel Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week is encompassed in this one little chapter
> 
> And sets the stage for Act II and more answers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor game spoilers :-)

The days after the party had started to blend together as Evie and Henry did their best to understand their new prized possession and the cryptic information that had fallen into enemy hands. For Jacob's part, he did his best to conduct reconnaissance missions on Ambrose's only known fixed location.

Having gotten back to the train that night, ready for a fight, Henry had dissuaded them and better explained who they were up against. That Mia was cunning and ruthless was already apparent, but she was also a shrew business woman and a genius with numbers and figures. It was her ability to manage her significant inheritance and invest with almost prophetic skill that had caught Starrick's attention.

As a result, he had put her in charge of his vast import and export business from Southeast Asia. Her family's long list of connections only furthered her reach, and with the dissolution of the East India Trading Company as the main ruling force in India, the business was exceptionally ripe under the reign of Queen Victoria. It explained why she had been ready to pick a fight with Jacob about the whole Bank of England business. Her livelihood depended on it.

The warehouse that Ambrose practically called home was a goddamned steel ship and it was _exactly_ why the three of them had concluded that any information that explained the cryptic insinuation for something "greater than a Piece of Eden" would be _here_. 

Evie had also taken the opportunity to remind him that Ambrose had hinted at valuables bringing tucked away somewhere _other_ than Stanton's home. 

Jacob had grimaced at the recollection. It was hard to forget as it was also the moment he realized Ambrose _wasn't_ an ally. The insides of Stanton's pants were _not_ something he cared to think about, thank _you_.

But this warehouse was so airtight, more so than the Bank itself, that Jacob spent hours trying to find a pattern in guard movements, shift changes, and a damned open door.

During the first night, Jacob had made the rash decision to treat the building like every other Templar controlled warehouse in London. They laid those low before breakfast, so how hard could it be?

 _A lot_ harder, apparently. This building was different. He'd killed the nearest guard and taken his keys, because he had duly noted that every heavy steel door to the building was always locked. Trying every key on the abominable ring proved that none of them opened any nearby door. Killing Templars quietly on his merry way to the next door lead to a dead end too.

As he had pulled back to reanalyze the situation, he realized that no guards carried the same keys, half the keys were decoys, sometimes all a guard carried were decoys, real keys were carried far away from the doors they opened, and to top it off, Ambrose had them rotating keys every damn hour, without rhyme or reason.

It was maddening, and every warehouse window was reinforced by thick steel and none of them opened wider than his head.

What was this woman guarding, for God's sake!

It was on the third day that he decided to pull back, do something else and come back with a fresh set of eyes.

In fact, now was the perfect opportunity to take up that opportunity with Maxwell Roth. If there was a person that intrigued him more than the woman that plagued his thoughts for the last three nights, it was that man.

From everything Jacob heard, he was a mad man with the deep desire to take down Starrick's empire. Jacob needed a solid distraction, now more than ever, and if he turned out to be a new ally, albeit a crazy one, he would at least be better off than before.

* * *

“12912.76? 6. 211. 279? These don't make any sense, Henry! Look at this one! 271434-9-314-24? Could Piri have lost his mind? What kind of coordinates are these?”

“Perhaps Piri found a new planet?”

Evie glared at him without heat. She covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled as she mumbled, “I need to _be_ on another planet.”

She pushed herself off from the table, her eyes blurry from looking at the map and it's numbers for so many hours. Turning her sight on and off like this was utterly exhausting, and she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to relieve the throbbing pressure behind them.

“Perhaps they are simply combinations, Evie?” Henry offered, weariness in his own voice as he stood up and stretched his back.

“They aren't arranged in any combination I've ever seen. And I swear, if I need to find another box to unlock now, I'm going to pull my hair out.”

She walked over to the small area of her room that held a few glasses and a decanter of brandy, which she now generously poured for each of them. Henry had made his way to the armchair by the fire and handed him his glass. She then curled herself up into his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. As his arm and fingers wrapped around her shoulders, she did her best to deeply breathe away her frustration.

“I just don't get it. He already made it challenging enough by using special ink. Now to create some kind of cryptic code to add to it's complexity? What's the point?"

Henry was quiet as he took a sip and concentrated on his answer. She always appreciated the time he took to respond to her, making every response meaningful.

“Perhaps simply being descendants of the First Ones doesn't pre-qualify you to unlock these secrets, Evie. To be forthright, you didn't _earn_ your abilities, you were gifted them. And we all know," he paused to brush hair away from her cheek, likely to cut the harsh truth of his words, "that assassins have never condoned entitlement.”

Evie heaved a heavy sigh and sunk deeper against his chest.

“I know you're right. Every safeguard has to be in place, especially for the likes of Haytham Kenway. But there is something special about this, Henry, I can feel it. If Stanton is to be believed, we're on the cusp of something bigger than just obtaining a shroud of eden."

“Now, Evie, don't loose sight of it because of this. We don't want Starrick to get a hold of it, and while that is _his_ only aim, you are becoming preoccupied with this other pursuit entirely. Don't confuse the moon with it's reflection.”

She smiled at him and shook her head. “You have the sweetest metaphors for 'don't be a tit'.” He laughed aloud and kissed her sweetly.

“I could say that too, but your brandy is still full and I didn't bring a change of clothes,“ Henry joked playfully.

“Who says you need clothes?” and Evie brandished her most wicked smile of the night.

* * *

“That man is fucking insane!” Jacob bellowed as he crashed into Evie's room, still recovering from his last Roth escapade. “No, no. He's evil _and_ insane! I just had to carry three kids out of a burning building because he decided it was a tactical move to _blow_ it up. And he gives me a dead raven as an invitation to his damn theatre. Who _does_ that?!”

Evie was curled up in her armchair by the fire, in her steady pursuit of studying the little symbols on the Piri map, various books opened haphazardly on the floor around her.

She arched her brow in that knowing way that immediately irritated him. “I _told_ you he was a man to avoid. It was only a matter of time before your principles got in eachother's way. Are you going to take him up on it? At the Alhambra, is it?”

“I don't _know_ but I know the world doesn't need more men like _that_.”

“Well, do you want to take care of him first? Or would you rather hear about how I can get you into Ambrose's warehouse.” She asked it like a rhetorical question because she _definitely_ knew the answer to that one.

Jacob's eyebrows shot up and he stood stock still and silent.

“That's what I thought,” Evie said casually as she unfurled herself and stood up to stretch. She was purposely taking her time, and Jacob just crossed his arms impatiently. He was moments away from tapping his foot with a snobbish flair.

“I would've gone in myself, but Henry has finally found a great lead that indicates I need to get to Buckingham   to get that shroud. We're going out tonight to pick up some blueprints. So if I tell you what you need to do, you'll be responsible about it, right?”

“Evie, --” Jacob started in exasperation.

“Seriously, Jacob," she interrupted with a stark seriousness. "I can't tell whether you're out all night drinking with your Rooks and throwing yourself at Roth this past week because you're pining after her or if you want to kill her. You and I both know that's no ordinary warehouse, so you'll be smart about this, right?”

Jacob honestly didn't know why he was being exceptionally reckless. He purposely didn't allow himself much time to think about it. It had been a week since the party, and he avoided moments alone like the plague.

He had climbed up St. Paul's on one particularly beautiful night, knowing that it was the best place for him to clear his head. The silence had once been as soothing as steady waves beating on the shore, or the regular beat of horse hooves clomping on cobbles. That night, after fifteen minutes, he had quickly scampered back down as the silence had howled and roared at him, opening his thoughts to things he didn't want to focus on.

It was safer to keep moving. To never stop and think. He knew it would bite him in the ass sooner rather than later, but that wasn't what Evie currently needed to hear.

He stepped up to her, arranging his expression to be as composed and thoughtful as possible.

“Evie. Tell me what I need to do and I'll do it right. I don't go down easily, but I do know when to quit. If you're telling me not to kill her, I won't. If I need to just retrieve the numbers or dig around without being caught, I will."

He looked sincere and he thought he sounded sincere. It seemed to be good enough for her as she studied him for a few seconds more.

“Okay, Jacob. Don't kill her yet. It'll draw too much attention from Starrick and he'll wonder at our motives. Henry and I are betting that Stanton hasn't mentioned I stole the map from under his nose, for fear of how his boss will react. And we really don't need to keep _two_ artifacts away from Starrick right now. The one is hard enough to deal with. ”

“Fair enough.”

“Just go in as _discreetly_ as possible and investigate. Ambrose has already likely made copies of the numbers, so stealing them now would be futile. I wish I could go with you but I need to deal with these blueprints first. Just go in and see if you find anything... I don't know... _extraordinary_...and we'll go back together later. But you _have_ to be discreet or else they'll raise the alarm and you won't get very far.”

“Yes, yes, I _love_ not knowing for what I'm looking for,  that's all well and good." Jacob waved his hand to brush away her repetitive warning. “I still fail to see how I'm getting in.”

“Just making sure. The last time I asked you to be discreet, you flew off a roof.” Evie picked up three keys from her desk. “It took a while to find the right entry point, it's nearly half a mile away from her warehouse, but use the sewers and tunnels near Victoria station. Mr. Bell has a friend who followed me to make keys for each of the gratings we came across. The final one will be tricky because there will be a guard posted there, but you'll manage that easily enough.”

She handed the keys over to Jacob. “Be careful with the door into the building. You need something else.”

She took out a small pouch and handed it over carefully. “This is a small, soft explosive Bell was keeping close to his chest as well. Place the smallest amount into the key hole and attach the lead as you would dynamite. The sound of the lock breaking should be no more than a loud click. Worst case, her men will think the damp air rusted out the lock and won't even mention it to her.”

Jacob weighed the pounch in his hand and nodded, already feeling his adrenaline turn on for the impending infiltration.

“Fantastic, Evie. You've truly done it again.” He patted her on the shoulder quickly and turned on his heel towards the exit and the setting sun.

“Please, be careful, Jacob. She has more guards there than you could take on by yourself and escaping may be as difficult as getting in.”

He knew better than to sound cocky, especially since she _had_ to bring up the roof again. He turned his profile to her, tipping his top hat low to cover his eyes in shadow.

“You can count on me, Evie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!


	11. A Heavy Silence

The air was _disgusting_ and dank as Jacob dropped into the tunnels beneath the city. The thrill of being this much closer to a new challenge was only slightly diminished by the stench.

Switching on his sight, the long, twisting tunnel immediately lit up with a blueish grey haze that perfected his night vision and allowed him to dodge the various rats that skittered around his feet.

The first grate he came across was simple enough to unlock by reaching through the bars and feeling around for a moment. The second one was a bit more rusted and took a moment longer, but it was the third that was even _more_ mildly annoying.

Instead of just the one guard Evie had warned of, there were two. One faced away from the grate with his back to Jacob. The other was facing the grate and would've spotted him immediately if it weren't for the dimness of the tunnels.

Who decided how to arrange these men, anyway? Were they just instructed to face whatever direction was particularly amusing that day? At least no one was facing a wall....

Neither man spoke and they both seemed exceptionally bored but alert enough that Jacob wasn't sure he could slip close enough unseen before one of them bolted for the door. He didn't think he could unlock the grate fast enough to chase them down properly either.

His voltage bomb _probably_ would've been a bad idea, since they all shared the small amount of water they stood in. He didn't have any other bombs on him, so he'd need another way to kill them simultaneously.

Crouching low, he tucked his top hat away and lifted his hood to cast his face in deep shadows. He kept low to the wall and stepped quietly towards them, being careful to not allow the smallest amount of water from splashing beneath his heel.

He only had one option and it wasn't one he usually preferred. Since the loud bang of his gun would likely deafen all of them in these reverberating tunnels, he pulled out his throwing knife and stood as close to the grate as he dared.

The guard furthest away and facing him stood at loose attention, and just as he was scratching a spot behind his ear, Jacob aimed sure and true directly between his eyes.

Before the guard closest to him realized what had happened, before blood could even bloom from the knife in his comrade's head, Jacob's blade slid smoothly between the vertebrae of his neck, and he slumped to the ground as if falling asleep.

Two seconds. Two dead guards. He'd need a bigger challenge than _this_ to stay awake. He couldn't help but wonder how discreet he _really_ needed to be. Stirring up a few guards and _then_ killing them was just as effective as killing then quietly.

He unlocked the grate and searched the guards quickly, finding a few pound notes and a set of keys.

The door leading out of the tunnels was smooth, heavy steel, and he found himself in a dark sublevel room. Two more guards stood at the single entrance, their backs to him.

In three long strides, he stepped calmly between them, into the threshold.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said smugly before he spread his arms and both blades slipped into their carotid arteries.

He idly wondered if they died even knowing what they guarded as he looked around the odd new space.

He was surrounded by smooth cement walls, arrow straight and brand new. Wide and long hallways branched out from where he stood in all three directions, broken intermittently by heavy, thick vault doors.

 _Excellent_. Now they'd only have to go through tons of steel to figure out what they were even looking for.

He stepped quietly in the dim corridors, every door identical to the next. He couldn't begin to know where to start as he meandered through the labyrinth. He would come across a stray guard every once in a while, and he didn't give them a second thought when they got in his way.

His sight helped significantly as he slowly lost track of time, but nothing stood out to him when he peered through the walls. There were a fair amount of chests, likely just full of loot he could never get his hands on.

Busily looking in the opposite direction, as he turned the next corner he immediately backtracked when he spotted three guards standing stock still up ahead to his right. They stood before massive doors that all but screamed important. Even the very presence of _three_ guards was like a pink elephant holding an arrow sign at the doors.

The hallway between where they stood was far too long and featureless for him to go bounding down to them, but it wasn't anything his voltage bomb couldn't handle.

In a few more moments, they lay convulsing on the ground in synchronization and he bolted over to finish them quickly.

He was leaving quite a little path of death behind him this evening. He guessed they'd have to come in a different route when Evie came back to join him.

Jacob now stood in awe of the double doors that now stood before him. They were wide and _massive_ , at least thirteen or fourteen feet tall. Unlike the clean steel of the others, these were stone and looked like they had actually been pulled from some immensely large and old structure. Little fissures webbed out in one corner, but little else of the bizarre facade was damaged. Figures, deeply etched into the dark stone, marched in a single file towards a seated figure. They each held an offering, and the seated figure sat like a monarch of some kind.

While this was the largest pictograph that spanned both doors, intricate etchings surrounded it; figures striking down figures with swords, dead bodies heaped in a tall tower and ablaze, figures in various sexual positions, and then just a plain staff over there, and an orb over there.

Jacob wasn't sure how long he stood there looking at the multitude of images. None of them were arranged with any rhyme or reason and some were far more disturbing than others. A figure holding a small baby by the ankles over the mouth of a chasm made a shiver run down his back. It was was a _dark_ and violent door. If _he_ couldn't tear his eyes off of it, Evie would surely be salivating by now.

He finally had the presence of mind to turn on his sight again and the image on the door transformed. While the etchings were now in dark shadows, what looked like a plain _column_ rose up from the bottom of the doors and flared out at the top. It was additionally odd because fine gold threads, like hundreds of strands in a web, were emanating from the top, like it was radiating. They weren't too dissimilar from the threads in that map, actually....

Before he had time to take an even closer look, the sounds of running feet resounded loudly against the hard floors and walls. Turning quickly, he made out the red outlines of his enemies coming down two separate hallways to his left and right.

It looked like ten in all and they'd flank him in meer moments. They hadn't made it to his stretch of hall yet so Jacob turned left so hard that his feet momentarily slipped in place before gaining traction on the smooth floor.

It wasn't the direction he'd come in but it sure as hell was better than staying still. How had they found the bodies and regrouped so fast? This level of coordination was unheard of for the usual dim-witted guards. What was Ambrose _paying_ these people?

He just needed to get past them before their perpendicular hallways met, but he was out of such luck for the night. Instead of running past them, he crashed right into the first of the guards, his brass knuckles quickly pummeling him downwards and his blade slashing through the air until it met the throat of the second.

The next three were brutish hulks that wouldn't go down easily and the precious moments he had to escape were lost as the second group of men were upon him and joined the fight.

Three, four, five. His heart raced in his chest as they went down, his feet stepping lightly in a graceful slash and parry combination that made his assassin blade dance in the light. He fluidly dipped low and swung his leg out to knock one guard off his feet and continued the motion up into the side of another's face.

Six, seven. His knuckled fists were particularly brutal with it's row of nails hammered out to face his enemy. Blood flew off the points of the nails and spattered darkly against the wall like some macabre work of art.

A sheen of sweat had finally sprouted from his hairline as the last three guards left standing were the unnaturally large kind. Breathing hard now, he barely dodged one blow before a sharp blinding pain streaked across his face as another punch finally cracked against his cheek.

The hit immobilized him for the split second they needed, and before he could react, two of them had his arms held firmly behind him. The third stood before him and laid down another sharp blow across his temple, his head snapping to the side like a rag doll.

One man on each arm made it impossible to move, and as the blows landed on his face, temple to temple, cheek to cheek, with brutal regularity and the occasional punch to his stomach, Jacob finally felt himself on the edge of consciousness as the pain threatened to overtake him. His ears rang and he could feel blood flow freely down his face. He could only hang limply now, his legs giving out beneath him.

It might have been minutes but it could have been hours. Somehow, through the ringing in his head and his blurry bloodied vision, he saw a figure marching down the long hallway behind the brutal guard.

 _Her._ Her heels clicked with a determination that was both frightening and a blessing, as it made the guard finally pause in mid air. She would kill him now. The woman he'd seen in his memory and dreams for the last week, unbidden and intrusive; the woman that made him run to mad men and drown in drink, would be the last face he'd ever see.

“That's _enough_!” Her voice resounded with power and authority, a crystal clear command that made the guards release him immediately. He crumbled like a stone, barely conscious, by their feet.

Her clicking heels stopped directly in front of his face, and with his eye starting to swell shut and the cool stone providing a sleepy, soothing relief against his cheek, he only saw a slender, leather clad boot leg rise before him.

“It's _my_ turn.”

In that moment, for the first time, Jacob Frye welcomed the new heavy silence of a beaten and battered consciousness. It covered him in its blanket, his limbs and mind weighed down as it overtook him like a gentle fog. It was a thick silence, the kind that fell only by force and couldn't be fought off.

The last sound he heard as his eyes closed was the familiar whisper of a blade and the distinct sound of heavy bodies hitting the floor around him.


	12. Know Thy Enemy

“Uuuuugh.”

Jacob was afraid to open his eyes as pain throbbed over every inch of his head. His face felt swollen and stretched, his lips were cut, and his one eye didn't want to open at all. The next best thing to full consciousness was another guttural groan.

“Uuuuuugh.”

“Hello to you too, Mr. Frye. You really take a beating rather well, don't you?”

He was lying on a hard stone floor, his head pillowed on his bundled up coat. He opened his one good eye and saw Mia sitting cross legged on the floor beside him, smiling tentatively in the dim light.

His heart fluttered wildly in the same moment that he clenched his fists, his instincts to attack her rallying against another instinct he brushed aside. He jerked upwards and groaned again as his bruised ribs protested painfully.

“You should lie still for little longer,” she insisted gently, pushing him back down by the shoulder. “It was still a _good_ beating.”

She had a bowl and a cloth sitting beside her which she now took up. Dampening it quickly, she daubed at the dried blood that pulled at his skin. He looked at her warily for a moment more before the cooling relief of the water slowly eased his eyes closed again.

“Who are you?” he mumbled quietly, his voice groggy from sleep.

She didn't respond immediately. Her fingers touched the swollen skin around his eye and he hissed sharply between his teeth. Even without a mirror, he knew it would be a while before that healed.

“It could've been worse,” she murmured quietly. “I put the biggest, meanest men down here, although I'd hoped you'd never cross them.” Her voice seemed distant as her touch slid against his skin. Her movements were slow and deliberate and threatened to put Jacob back to sleep.

“Cheers to you for finding a weakness in my sublevels, though,” she continued conversationaly. “But you _do_ know there is a large open window in my offices upstairs?”

Even through his hazy awareness and closed eyes, he didn't miss the laughter in her voice and it irritated him.

“Yes, well if I didn't think you were a thieving, lying Templar, I might've asked you,” he growled, glad his voice carried a hardy dose of venom.

He opened his eye and saw the mirth and lightness fade from her demeanor. Her brow furrowed gently as she quietly focused her efforts on cleaning him off.

“Where are we?” He looked around behind her and saw they were in a dim circular stone room. It was very small, hardly larger than a closet, and with a low ceiling that implied they were still underground.

She laughed quietly to herself. “The only safe place I could drag you. Your tailbone might be a bit bruised,” she said sheepishly. “You're heavier than you look.” She smiled again, stubbornly trying to lighten the dark mood that hung between them.

His jaw clenched. Maybe it was because he was battered and bruised, or because he didn't want to give this woman a moment of ease, but he was resolved to stay in a bad mood. If she was trying to disarm him, it wouldn't work. “Who. Are. You.”

His tone made his question unavoidable. She stopped her hand in mid motion and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I see.... So _that's_ how it's going to be, Frye?” she asked coldly after a tense silence, her tone flat and hard. “I'm the woman who saved your ass _twice_ , that's who.”

“Twice? You're joking! You got me _into_ shit twice. And _whatever_ you did back there was hardly saving. I could've handled them just fine if your brutes weren't abominations!”

“So what _exactly_ is it you're blaming me for?” She wiggled her two fingers and ticked them off. “ _Your_ idiotic leap off of a roof like some crusading monkey? And for securing _my_ building to the best of my ability with men that _actually_ do their jobs?!“

“Yes and yes! I'm blaming you for making it necessary for me to even _be_ here!”

“If you and your sister hadn't botched up the party so badly, you wouldn't _have_ to be here! _None_ of this would be happening!”

“Botched up the party? What the hell are you going on about?”

“I _mean_ , if your sister hadn't honed in on Stanton as her target that night, we may have actually had a chance to talk!”

“We were there to see Murdoch and it turned out to be less than useless!”

“That's because you _weren't_ there to see Murdoch. You were there to see _me_!”

Their voices had reached an angry pitch, but Jacob's next retort stopped short at her comment.

He struggled to sit up again, ignoring the pain, and leaned his head against the rough stone wall. He searched her face for more information, the tension between them mounting in the hanging silence. When she wasn't forthcoming, her expression purposely blank, he immediately knew what she was implying.

“Let me guess,” he started quietly. “You're some top secret Assassin working behind enemy lines. Is that it?”

She screwed up her face at his condescending tone and it only served to heighten their hostility.

“Yes, that's exactly right.”

“You've been an assassin this whole time?”

“No, Jacob. I woke up this morning and thought _hey, I'm bored, what can I do to spice things up?_ ” Jacob raised his eyebrows, half believing her. Templars could be weird people.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, Jacob! For as far back as I care to remember, I've been an assassin!”

She promptly stood up and walked back to place the bowl and linen on a small table.

“If you're an assassin, then why don't we know about you? Greenie told us who's who the minute we got to London.”

He rubbed at his pounding temples, being careful to avoid the swollen skin.

“Henry isn't the type to go sharing his friends' secrets. My position here is a little too precarious for every assassin who wanders in to know who I am.”

She shrugged, turning around to lean against the table's edge and crossed her arms. “Besides, our paths may never have even crossed. I do my job and I do it very well, but I don't think I'm twisted enough for your little hit list.”

He laughed derisively. “You never know, my hit list grows shorter every day. I'll get _bored_ eventually.” His threat was clearly shallow as the painful throbbing in his eye thoroughly distracted him. Even the cut he'd been awarded on his eyebrow hadn't been as annoying as this.

“So tell me. What the hell happened at the party then? You know, the one where you threatened to kill innocent people?” He hesitated for only a breathe. “And _all_ of which was a massive waste of time?”

She didn't miss his emphasis and he regretted it the instant her face fell and she looked away. That might've been harsh. Just a _little_.

If Jacob were seven days younger, in a pre-Mia, pre-Roth life, he would believe every word she said, would likely be swooning over her right then. Their list of powerful allies was a short one and beautiful deadly ones even more so. But he had been offered a sharp reminder of his creed that he wasn't about to easily forget again.

 _Nothing is true_.

It wasn't easy, and _wouldn't_ be easy, but everything he thought he knew needed a new perspective.

She took a deep breathe and closed her eyes, a bitterness to her tone that she fought to bite back.

“Edward Stanton is a reprehensible asshole, is what happened. While I would've loved to see your sister beat him to a bloody pulp, he would've gone straight to Starrick and complained like a little _bitch_.”

Her lips snarled and she spat the last word with genuine contempt. “I've bought you some time and, for now, your little heist will stay off of Starrick's list of reasons to kill you. Although I'm sure your other pursuits still give him _plenty_ reason enough.”

Jacob shrugged and reluctantly nodded in agreement which brought a small smile across her lips again. _Damn, he wasn't properly threatening this woman at all!_ He rubbed his head again to hide his annoyance.

“It's the _first_ time I saved your ass, by the way,” she said gently. “And what kind of good little Templar would I be if I didn't threaten at least a dozen people in as many minutes every day?” She arched her brow and if Jacob wasn't mistaken, which he probably was, a _come hitherto_ look passed into her large dark eyes.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the small piece of paper that she had taken from Evie, offering it now casually with a flick of her wrist.

Jacob slowly stood up, stretching his back and rubbing at his tender tailbone. Had she dragged him across every stair in the building to bring him here?

He rolled his shoulders and thrust his chest out to rub at his bruised ribs, purposefully taking his sweet time before striding over and plucking the paper from her hand.

“I took a look at it and I think your sister would be interested in my interpretation,” she said, still smiling.

“Is that so? And what's the price for such valuable information?” Jacob looked her over skeptically but Mia seemed properly surprised.

“Nothing. I want to help.”

He now donned his top hat and coat and felt nearly himself again. “Like how helpful Murdoch was? Is he just your only lacky with any _joie de vivre_?”

She laughed when he said it and he couldn't help but wonder again if he _ever_ pronounced that right.

“No, he's not a lacky. The Murdochs excavated a number of Piri sites based on his European map, there's no doubt about that.” She shrugged as he eyed her questioningly. “It doesn't mean _Julian_ has ever cared for it. That man has roots like a rolling stone. I take it he wasn't very helpful then?”

Jacob waved his hand dismissively. “Some cryptic bullshit about energy lines or some such thing.”

Mia went stock still, her mouth slightly agape. _Fuck_ , she didn't know about those, did she? Jacob flipped his hat up and smoothed down his hair to give him something to do.

“I need to talk to you and your sister together.” She stepped closer to him, so close he could smell the jasmine in her hair again. “I think we have more answers for eachother than either of us realize.”

“What makes you think we'll trust you?” Jacob's scathing tone didn't have any effect on her whatsoever. She was absolutely confidant.

“Henry will vouch for me, I only need to see him,” she said with certainty.

Assassin or not, Jacob only wanted to get _rid_ of this woman. She made him do stupid things. And what? Now they _needed_ her? Why did it always come to that?

“Maybe when we've killed Starrick. Maybe when Evie has found that blasted shroud--. ”

She took his hands in hers and a pleading entered her eyes that he hadn't expected to see. “Tonight, Jacob. _Please_.”

“Why? What's the rush? That map's been around for centuries. Wherever it's leading to will stick around for another few weeks.”

“It's not a _where_ , it's a what. If I don't get some answers soon, Stanton will just take matters into his own hands until you _will_ have to deal with Starrick. I said I only bought you time and that doesn't mean _weeks_.”

She looked up at him with a modicum of desperation and he couldn't help but be stunned again by her beauty. He crossed his arms and just shook his head his wonder.

“Why the hell is all of this so important to all of you?”

He regretted asking as soon as the words left his mouth. The look in Mia's eyes was one he'd seen in Evie's enough times to know that the intellectual pursuits of these women could be _very_ long winded. He braced himself for a history lesson, tipping his hat low to shield himself.

“Jacob, what if all this death and war could be avoided entirely? What if we could end it now? Wouldn't you want that?”

“Where powerful corrupt men were just...powerful corrupt men without magical mind control abilities? Sure, things might be easier.”

She brushed aside his levity. “I did some research of my own this week. In the twelfth century, when they were excavating for the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, they found a First Civilization structure and a single object inside. Not a Piece of Eden by any stretch of the imagination, but a simple stone pedestal. Historians swarmed around it, documenting it and asking too many probing questions before the Order came in and hid everything .”

Jacob lit up when he recognized the name. Forgetting entirely that he shouldn't be trusting this woman, he blurted, “Evie mentioned those crazy lines meeting in Santiago de whatever!”

Mia grinned broadly in excitement and unabashedly took his hands in hers. She even bounced a little on her heels which Jacob grudgingly found very endearing.

“That's _fantastic!_ It only supports my theories! I have nothing but sketches and drawings from _that_ dig but if they're even remotely acurate, my family found a similar object during the excavation for the Taj Mahal. They hit a structure buried beneath and a similar pedestal. If we can get our hands on Stanton's half of the map, I bet anything you'd see the lines meet there too.”

Jacob was now thoroughly confused. “Wait, wait, wait. Your _family_? How would your _family_ know to dig directly at the site of another structure? Evie said these Piri maps have been lost for a long time and most people can't see the lines anyway.”

“Some sites are holy long before anything is built over them. It's intrinsic knowledge, just passed down. They couldn't dig there without upsetting a lot of people unless they had the Shah to back them up. ”

She shrugged casually, almost too casually, and Jacob had the distinct feeling there was more to it.

“Piri only pointed to Grande Temples though, right? Your family didn't have any direction, they could've been digging up anything. Did they know what they were _looking_ for? That it wouldn't be harmful to all those people?”

“I'm sure precautions were put in place...,” and Mia trailed off and looked away from him. Her skills at lying had suddenly taken a serious nose drive.

“What kind of assassins would risk it?” he proded again, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Jacob wouldn't have been surprised if she started bashfully shuffling her feet in that awkward moment. “Curious ones?” she ventured.

He shook his head. Try again.

“Jeez, when did you get so sharp on details? They were Templars, Jacob! My family was eyeball deep in the Order!” she exclaimed.

She looked almost frightened that she had said it aloud. He backed away warily, and his fist clenched, ready to detract his blade. So she was an Assassin who pretended to be a Templar, but she actually _was_ raised by Templars? The cards were stacking up against her fast now.

“They were a _fantastic_ line of deranged, fanatical and _powerful_ Templars.” She spoke quickly now and took a step towards him. “Murdoch brought me to this life. He's made a career of freedom fighting for other nations. If he couldn't free his native Ireland, he'd fight for the world. He was in India thirteen years ago to lay the groundwork for the sepoy rebellion, part of which was getting _my_ family out of the way.”

She took another step towards him, her dark beautiful eyes large and desperate. “I was only seven, Jacob. He spared me and sent me here while he stayed in India and ultimately lost the war.”

She took another tentative step and now she stood close again. Her eyes searched his stony expression for some kind of response but he honestly didn't know what to think. How many layers of lies did this woman have?

“I always knew none of it was right...the things they did, what they stood for.... Julian showed me a better path, one I could serve proudly and even where I could use my background to the Brotherhood's advantage.”

Jacob numbly allowed her to take his hands, and she looked down at them. “Starrick heard where I was from and he didn't hesitate to bring me into his fold a few years ago.” She looked up at him again, her eyes sad and inexplicably lost and alone. “So here I am, an assassin working behind enemy lines,” she whispered. “You probably believe me as much as you believe you can fly.”

Everything in her demeanor spoke the truth, and Jacob closed his eyes, afraid to look at her. Was she worth the risk? Did it even matter at this point? She had truthfully pointed out that he had done enough on his own to paint a target on his back.

_Everything is permitted._

There would be consequences to this, he knew. He was about to follow this woman somewhere when he had enough of his own mess to deal with, but some attraction inexplicably drew him to her.

He sincerely hoped he didn't regret this.

He rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hands and smiled, flinching as his face pulled new painful muscles for the first time.

“But I _do_ fly.”

She blinked slowly at his meaning, a broad beautiful grin spreading over her face.

“How about we go catch a train? But try _anything_ ,” he warned, “and I _will_ have to kill you.”

“Deal.” She reached up and gingerly set her fingers near his swollen eye. “How about we slap a steak on that shiner while we're at it?”

“Uuuuuuuuuugh.”

“I'm sorry, did that hurt?”

“No, but I am _starving_.”

* * *

The rooftops were, again, theirs to gallavant upon. The night air was cool and did wondrous things to Jacob's mood.

Mia's companionable chatter worked it's own wonders, and he knew with more certainty that she was exactly who she said she was. Hopefully Henry was on board the train, because he had the feeling Evie would need more than Jacob's word and Mia's story to be convinced of her allegiances. Although Evie's curiosity may win the day, but Jacob just couldn't be sure.

The clock had seemed to reset between them too, and little of what happened a week ago, the bad _and_ the good, seemed to get in the way. To know and _un_ know a person was new to him, and there was no telling where _re_ knowing her would lead.

During a particularly peaceful silence between them, he ventured to ask her what she knew about Maxwell Roth. He _had_ to kill him but he couldn't help wonder if he was missing an important piece of information about the man. Mia seemed particularly insightful, so it couldn't hurt to ask.

They had stopped to perch on Westminster Abby, looking down at the city from it's magnificent clusters of peaks, arches and flying buttresses.

She sat close to him, her leg against his and she swung her feet playfully over the great empty expanse below them. He got the distinct impression that she didn't frolick like this enough and tonight was a rare treat.

“Roth? Why in the world would you take up any endeavor with _him_? He's a mad man.”

Her question was so innocent that Jacob immediately felt his response was foolish. “Yes, well, we had similar goals for a time. I tend to take allies where I can find them, even _unwisely_.” He arched his eyebrow at her, dropping the not so subtle hint that she wasn't in the clear yet.

She ignored his implication and spoke softly and thoughtfully, gazing out onto the city below.

"There are few men like him in the world, Jacob," she warned quietly. "Be careful how close you get. You'll question your own sanity if you peer too closely into his shattered mind.”

Jacob was taken aback by the darkness in her tone. She saw this and wove her arm around and under his, hugging it gently as she tipped her head on his shoulder. It was an innocent gesture, and Jacob responded in kind, tipping his head subtly against her's.

"First you'll be disgusted,” she continued. “Then you'll be frightened. And then, in the deepest, darkest night, when you're alone in the silence of your thoughts, you'll wonder if he isn't right."

She spoke with fear in her voice, and gave Jacob the clear impression she had experienced such a moment before.

“Right about what?” he asked softly. His free hand brushed her cheek before he intertwined their fingers in her lap.

“Whether the world _does_ need to burn.”

He quickly pulled away from her, like she had burned him, and they turned to face eachother. There was no hint of malice in her eyes, only a sadness that struck a cord deep within him.

“I see and live both sides of this war every day, Jacob. The Order believes with a zealous _passion_ that men need to be subjugated for the survival of our race. When I see and hear of the violence in this world, bodies of innocent men, women and children thrown away like so much refuse and people killing for whatever delusion they were taught to believe, I can't help but wonder if we _can't_ take care of ourselves. If the world, by not being free, _would_ be safer."

Jacob watched her steadily, not moving, and willed her to continue. She _needed_ to say more to make it okay. She smiled sadly, duly noting his rapt attention.

“Don't worry. I haven't forgotten the passion with which the world fights for freedom either. It is as necessary to us at the air we breathe. All of us want to be the architects of our own lives, and we all deserve such a chance.”

She looked out into London again, at the glittering warm lights of the world below and the shimmering silver stars of the world above. The moon hung large and bright, casting her upturned face in a silvery light.

“Three years ago, a Templar lacky killed America's great emancipator. Their president was already set to be a legend, a man all good men will aspire to for centuries. And now, this cowardly nobody actor will live in infamy forever too. Just because he was the darkness that put out the light.

“There is no good without evil. One must put the other in perspective. It's a function of the world and inherent within us, and we're always balancing the two. Men like Roth believe in neither. They have no rules, know no balance. They know only chaos.”

She drew her hand up to rest behind the back of his neck, her touch soft but insistent, like she needed him to hear her.

“Be careful, Jacob. Men like Roth are worse than any Templar. If the world _does_ ever burn, it'll be his laughter ringing in the night.”

Her low voice, thoughtful and intense, now trailed off but she kept her hand where it was on his neck. It had been a simple question, and her answer now sent a chill down his spine.

“I'll be sure to make his death a quick one, then,” he grinned awkwardly and Mia just shook her head, holding back a smile. He moved his own hand to brush her hair off her shoulder and let it rest near her cheek.

The distant sounds of London faded as Jacob lost himself in her limitless eyes. Her scent, her warmth; if he could but lose himself for just a moment, allow himself a single, brief indiscretion....

She pulled back suddenly and looked as if she had been startled from a dream.

“We should get going,” she whispered, pulling herself away from him until her absense created a vacuum where she had been.

She stood up and took a moment to look down and around for a way to get closer to the ground. Jacob stood up, promptly rearranged his composure, and smirked as he scooped her tightly against him with a dashing flourish.

“What are you--?”

She was interrupted by the loud snap of his gauntlet as it released it's high tensioned cable, and before she could say more, they were sliding downwards on the line. The metal of his gloved fingers carried them smoothly along the cable, and he savored the air against his face and the whistle of the wind in his ears like he always did. Except now, he had to admit, the company clinging to him was an added bonus.

Without a stumble, he stopped them gracefully nearly two hundred feet further down.

She laughed and hopped away from him, grabbing his gauntlet to take a look at the intricate system of pulleys and springs. beneath.

“That was amazing! You _must_ tell me where I can get one of those!” she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear and pushing away her gorgeous mess of wind blown hair.

“What, this little thing?” He waved it teasingly in front of her. “Not a chance.”

He turned away from her, but not before gesturing to the train in the distance, inviting her to an unspoken challenge.

“Sure, but you're _not_ using that thing,” and she ran head long towards the train so quickly he barely had time to react. Climbing and bounding, crouching and springing like cats in the night, Mia stayed seconds in front of him as they raced their way towards the chugging and burping black smoke of the Frye hideout.

She didn't know one car from another but in a moment, she dove into _his_ car, staggering as she made contact with the floor. Jacob was far too close behind her when she stopped and he barreled into her, crashing them both to the floor in a jumbled tangle of arms and legs amidst riotous laughter.

“Wha' in bloody hell is _this_!” came a familiar voice further down the car.

“Agnes!” Jacob called in surprise as he scrambled to stand and held out a hand to help Mia up. “I'm _oh so_ surprised to see you here.”

“No, yer not. I'm always here.” Agnes pulled her stout frame from the chair and eyeballed Mia with ill concealed contempt. “Who's this noo? Ye usually don't bring lady friends here. An' what happened tae yer face! Did th' train hit ye on yer way in?"

Agnes' ruffled feathers always threw Jacob off his stride but Mia stepped forward with all the grace and dignity he didn't have. “Mia Ambrose, ma'am. Pleasure to meet you.”

Agnes harumphed in a not so lady like fashion and just set her hands on her hips.

“Agnes. Mia. Mia. Agnes,” Jacob introduced them quickly. “Agnes, is Evie and Henry back yet?”

“Yes and no. Henry left tae do whatever it is he does an' I don't believe he an' Miss Frye are on _speaking_ terms at th' moment.”

 _Damn_. That would put a damper on things.

Jacob turned to Mia, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Let me talk to Evie first. I can convince her to hear you out before you come in.”

Mia looked skeptical. “Are you sure? I managed to convince you, after all.”

“No, I'm not sure. I'll be dead before she instantly says, _'Jacob, dear brother, you're absolutely correct'_ , but I need to try anyway.” Without thinking, he brushed his thumb against the wry smile forming on her lips. “I'll be right back.”

Jacob marched past Agnes and hopped into Evie's room, not giving himself any real time to prepare a proper opening. _Hey, Evie, you know that Templar woman that threatened to murder people if you didn't give her what she wanted? Yeah, she's nice._

But her rooms were empty and Jacob's stomach dropped. Within seconds a loud crash came from the car behind him, along with the cacophonous yelling and shouting of three angry women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell Roth is absolutely my favorite bad guy in any Assassin's creed game. He's even beat Cesare Borgia on my list. He's wonderfully disturbing and Iwish I could've dedicated more time to him in this story, but I did what I could. :-)
> 
> thanks so much for reading!


	13. Carrington

“Agnes, are you alright?” Evie was breathing hard as she sat planted firmly on Ambrose's back and finally had her arms pinned down beneath her knees. Ambrose, surprisingly enough, wasn't putting up much of a fight after their initial struggle.

“What the hell, Evie?” Jacob growled as he stepped into the car from her own. His face was a mess of bruises and cuts, and she wasn't sure if he could even open the one eye.

“Jeez, Jacob, what happened to your face?”

“Nevermind my face. Would you kindly get off of Miss Ambrose please?”

“Don't worry, I can handle this, Jacob.” Evie ground the side of Ambrose's head into the carpet _hard_. “She wasn't going to make it very far.”

“Ouch,” was all they could hear of Ambrose's muffled response into the rug.

Jacob strode forward and bent down to grab Evie's coat collar. “Off,” he growled through gritted teeth, inches from her face.

Evie sat stunned for a moment, and it was more from shock than acquiescance that she reluctantly hopped off of Ambrose's back. Jacob didn't usually hold a threatening tone with _her_....

She watched in silent wonder as her brother helped Ambrose to her feet, the same woman they had come to despise over the course of a week.

He had both hands placed on her shoulders and was looking at her with grave concern. “Are you alright?” he muttered, his hands moving over her in a far too familiar way.

Ambrose took his hands and held them still. “Yes, Jacob, I'm fine,”she said reassuringly. She dusted off her long dark coat and turned from Jacob to Evie.

“It's a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Frye, ” she said pleasantly and abruptly stuck out her hand for a handshake as if Evie _hadnt_ just been sitting on her.

Evie's mouth hung open as she glanced at her brother, to this woman, and back to her brother again. She gazed at the hand sticking out at her as if it were the strangest gesture in the world, and was momentarily thunderstruck.

When the awkwardness was palpable enough for all of them, Jacob cleared his throat loudly. “Evie, this is Mia Ambrose...as you're well aware of course...,” he fumbled and trailed off. He was aiming for a cheery disposition that came out more than strained. “Wouldn't you know, it turns out she _is_ an assassin, and was there at the party to speak to us about the map.”

Evie didn't respond right away, making her skepticism clear in her expression. She raised a hand to her waist and gave Jacob a look that could only say _Really? You fell for that?_

“Is that right?” Evie asked aloud, glancing at them both as they stood there like some happy couple. “Did she convince you of that before or after she beat you up and slept with you?”

Mia flushed and Jacob turned red. “Evie, it's not like that--.”

Evie's patience was shorter than she realized after the long night she'd just had. “Oh, really? Then what's it like, Jacob? Am I supposed to believe every tramp you sleep with is a super helpful assassin spy who can answer all my questions?”

“No…,” he started carefully. “But this one is.” He held his hands up defensivly at Ambrose's sudden hot glare. “I didn't mean it like that!” he hastily corrected, stammering and turning redder. He was having a bad time with all of this.

Agnes now stepped up from behind them, hands on her hips, looking as stubborn as ever. “Ah dun know who she is, Miss Evie, but ah can tell yee, they came crashin' in here like two bunnies hoppin' in tae their hidey hole. Wooda started _ruttin'_ on the rug if ah weren't here. ”

“Agnes!” Jacob yelled hotly. “You're not helping! Don't you have a car you can go redecorate?”

Agnes harumphed again and strode out towards the diner car.

When it was just the three of them, Ambrose took a tentative step forward, hands up in surrender.

“Miss Frye, you're absolutely correct in not trusting me. I wouldn't expect anything less. The circumstances of our first meeting were less than ideal and I now only ask for a few moments of your time to provide an explanation.”

Evie took a closer look at Ambrose again and saw little of the haughty, arrogant Templar from the party. While confident, this woman had an approachable aire about her, maybe even humble as she waited expectantly for Evie's answer.

“I can promise,” she continued when Evie wasn't forthcoming, “if you're not satisfied with my story in five minutes, you can _kill_ me. Here and now.”

Jacob reached out a hand at this, and she shook her head firmly. She was _very_ confident then.

Ambrose's dark eyes were wide with anticipation. While Evie was sure that Jacob had fallen for a beautiful conartist, a few moments was a small sacrifice to make.

“ _Five_ minutes,” Evie agreed and plopped herself down on a chair, posture rigid and legs folded primly before her as she waited for Ambrose to begin.

She perched herself on the edge of Jacob's couch bed and Jacob settled in beside her. Evie was mildly surprised at how quickly her typically unromantic brother was giving this woman his unabashed endorsement.

Evie listened. Mia was a beautiful story teller, threading back from her childhood in India, to her excursion to England and her time as an assassin before she joined the Order under Murdoch's directive.

She explained what she knew about Santiago de Compostella, and Evie regrettably had to admit that no true Templar would profer up such valuable information so easily.

Evie found herself leaning further and further in her seat as the five minutes flew by until Mia abruptly stopped talking.

“So what is it?” Evie asked impatiently.

Mia smiled warmly and shrugged. “My time is up, Miss Frye. If you can afford me the benefit of the doubt, I would love to have less of a one sided conversation and discuss all of this in a more convivial manner.”

Evie glanced at each of them in turn again, not completely sure if they were both toying with her. She had sent Henry away in frustration so she had no idea when he would be back to validate any of this.

But the ever curious side of her wanted to know more. If this was all a lie it was the most intricate lie she'd yet heard. She waved her hand in a brief dismissal, and leaned back in her chair. “Yes, alright. I have a feeling your story is a little too imperfect to be anything but true,” she said casually, a small smile fighting to cross her lips.

“Excellent!” Jacob shot up from the couch in a flash. “And no convivial conversation is complete without brandy!” He swiftly made his way to the diner car, leaving Evie and Mia to sit in an awkward silence for a few moments.

“So…,” Evie started uncomfortably. “How big were the men that wallopped Jacob?”

“Not really _that_ big,” Mia admitted. “I didn't have the heart to correct him. Plus he had just fought off seven or eight others. He must've been tired.”

“Don't let him hear you say that. Fryes don't quit until they're the last one standing.”

“Well he would've been,” Mia shrugged. “If he hadn't passed out, that is.”

Evie smiled at her. There was something to be said about a woman who would tolerate her brother's pride. “Speaking of passing out, did he tell you about the time he wandered into our favorite pub in Crawley _completely_ nude?”

“He didn't!” Mia laughed.

“He did. It's still my most traumatic memory of him. Turns out--,”

“Now, now, Evie,” Jacob interrupted as he ambled back into the car with three short tumblers in one hand and a bottle in the other. “ _Your_ traumatic experience may be _her_ wildest fantasy. I wouldn't go tainting the whole thing.”

He handed them their glasses and poured them each a generous amount, serving himself last and retaking his seat on the couch beside Mia. Evie noted that they kept a respectable distance from each other and she suspected it wasn't for her benefit.

They did have something of a backwards situation between them. Lovers first, friends second. Regardless, she'd never let him live down those doting eyes if he brought up father again.

Evie held up her glass for a toast, and they followed suit.

“To good stories,” Evie remarked.

“To _true_ stories,” Jacob corrected.

Mia smirked at their instant disagreement. “To _both_ ,” and the gentle clinks of their glasses reset the tone for their evening.

“So, Miss Ambrose--” Evie started.

“Mia, please,”she insisted, tucking her legs beneath her and holding her tumbler between both hands. She had such an easy grace about her that Evie wondered if they couldn't be friends one day.

“Mia, then. You mentioned you had your theories about those numbers you...borrowed? Henry and I have been reviewing them for ages and we're at a total loss. What do you think they mean?”

Mia smiled radiantly, and her excitement in their shared mystery was endearing. Evie met few women she could relate to in an intellectual capacity.

Jacob pulled out the paper and handed it to Mia who glanced at it briefly before handing it back to Evie.

“The arrangement of the numbers is purposefully meant to be confusing, but in reality, they're just dates.” She pointed at a few lines and Evie and Jacob leaned in to read it.  
“12912.76 is just 12-9-1276. 6. 211. 279 is just 6-21-1279. They're all like that, you just have to see the pattern in the numbers and ignore the way they're broken up.

Evie cocked her head and browsed the list, shaking her head in frustration. “How did we miss that?”

“Easy. Because you were meant to,” Mia said consolingly.

Jacob was leaning closer to Mia than was absolutely necessary as he squinted at the numbers. “So what? Looks like all those dates are a few centuries old. Now I'm _all_ for medieval history, as you both well know, but I think we have more pressing matters to deal with _today_ , yes?”

Evie looked again and saw he was right. If they were dates, they were all from the thirteenth century and whatever meaningful thing had occurred was long since past.

Mia glanced at both of them intently, tapping at the numbers again. “This is where my theory starts, actually. They aren't dates from the _Gregorian_ calendar.” Evie and Jacob both shared the same blank look. Evie knew about other calendars, of course, but she knew nothing in detail.

“Piri wrote this in the sixteenth century Ottoman Empire. He would've used Rumi or Hijri dates, not Gregorian or Julian ones.”

“What's the time difference?” Evie asked.

“It's complicated and depends on solar and lunar cycles, but…,” Mia pulled out another small piece of paper from her coat and handed it to Evie, “...I already did the conversions.”

Evie took it delicately from Mia's fingers, wondering at this woman's resourcefulness and innate knowledge. She slowly unfolded it and saw two columns side by side, one with the original dates, and the other with the conversion.

“This can't be right,” Evie insisted. “These dates are all this century. And the next century...and beyond!” She wonderingly searched Mia's expression, who was nodding thoughtfully to herself.

“I know...." Mia leaned back on the couch and took a sip of her drink. Jacob's arm was draped casually across the back of his couch, and Evie could swear he was much closer to her now.

Leave it to Jacob to use a new mystery as a means for wooing.

“Bear with me, please,” Mia said softly. She noted Jacob's distance and hesitated for a moment before scooting herself over and turning his chest into her new back rest. He wrapped both arms around her waist and let them rest in her lap.

His mission _clearly_ complete, Evie couldn't help but smile wryly when Jacob winked at her, the effect even better with his purpling eye. His abnoxious reminders about _missions_ and _emotions_ could finally kiss her ass.

Mia absently swirled the amber liquid in her glass with one hand, oblivious to their unspoken exchange. “This isn't exactly common knowledge, but it happened for everyone to see. Do you recall a time, nine years ago, when had a night that turned to day? People thought the sun had risen and the sky was so blood red that some even thought it was the apocalypse.”

“I remember,” Jacob murmured into the top of her head and Evie nodded her assent. “I was practicing my pickpocketing skills on our butler...what was his name again?”

“Alfred.” Evie rolled her eyes at her brother's fickle attention span.

“ _Alfred_ , that's _right_. Man was _terrifying_. Caught me red handed because of that sky.”

Evie shook her head and encouraged Mia to continue. For her part, Mia reached up and touched his cheek gently.

“It was the bane of pickpockets everywhere, Jacob. But it wasn't only a beautiful site to see. It took down telegraph machines and poles and electrocuted operators all around the world. Governments thought it was some nefarious espionage and people thought their cities had caught on fire.

“Turns out a man named Richard Carrington saw it coming. He's an amateur astrologist right here in London and he studies phenomenon on the surface of the sun. His claim is that, while the sun grants us all the benefits that we know and love, it also has moments of _awakening_ that it can have considerable effects over our auroraes. He called that particular event a solar flair. We didn't see the effects until September 2nd but...”

Mia pointed down at the date on the paper in Evie's hand. “Carrington claims the sun actually erupted on August 28th, 1859. A date Piri noted three hundred years ago as 12912.76.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone know why Ubi decided 1868 was a good year for this game, instead of the year of the Carrington event on September 2nd 1859?
> 
> Considering it's solar flairs that wiped out the First Civilization, seems like an oversight to not live through one as a Victorian Era assassin, right? Oh well, I didn't like it, so my story makes it an integral moment. :-)
> 
> Fact: The solar storm of July 23rd 2012 was of the same magnitude as the Carrington event. If it had struck earth, we'd still be in the dark these four years later and you probably wouldn't be reading this.
> 
> So yay, that it missed us! And thanks for reading!


	14. Against Reason, Against Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more moment's peace

Jacob couldn't see Mia's face from where she rested on his chest, and while he was grateful for her closeness, he was completely missing the looks her and Evie were sharing.

Never the one to be left out, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through Mia's hair until she looked up at him. “Would it be stupid if I asked how the hell a man from three hundred years ago managed to pick that particular date _nine_ years ago?”

Mia smiled up at him.“Not stupid at all.” She looked away and left it at that. Jacob hung his mouth open for a question and remained flabbergasted. He looked over at Evie who shrugged.

“We don't _know_ , Jacob. There are artifacts that could have told him as much....” Evie looked back at Mia with more curiosity now. “But Mia, how in the world did you make that connection? It's one thing to recalculate the hijri calendar, but then to pick a solar flair as the big event...?”

Mia leaned forward again tentatively. “Well if you look at the next date, it's actually December 14th, 1862. It was a more minor event and mostly effected the Americas but--,” Mia trailed off at Evie's upturned hand.

“I _believe_ you, Mia. It's an ingenious connection. I imagine all of these dates point to major events like that one. Even this last one here....”

“December 21st, 2012…”

Jacob barked out a laugh. “2012? We'll be living in the clouds by then. Or another planet entirely!”

Evie ignored him but he could swear Mia had tensed against him. “My question is _how_ you made such a connection. A person could have spent weeks, _years_ , trying to find a thread of commonality between all these dates. And you find it in the span of a week? There's more to this....Does it have to do with the lines Murdoch mentioned? The ones we see?”

Evie asked the question gently enough, but there was more than enough suspicion in her tone to make the atmosphere uncomfortable.

Mia heaved a big sigh, preparing herself to respond, when a loud thump came from Evie's car.

“Ouch... Evie!” Henry called out from her car. When he didn't immediately see her in there, they heard him make his way to their car. “I'll never get used to boarding this train when it's moving. Evie, I wanted to apolo--oh!”

Henry stopped short at the entrance to the car as he saw the scene laid out before him. Jacob and Mia were practically snuggled on the couch, and Evie sat casually with a glass of brandy in hand. All just the best of friends.

Mia slowly lifted off of him and he waited with baited breathe, as he knew Evie did too, to watch Henry's reaction for any signs of treachery. It would be incredibly unfortunate, as he had quickly grown attached to this woman in the course of a night. So quickly he was afraid to admit he had never been completely _un_ attached.

“ _Namaste_ , Jayadeep,” Mia said quietly, her perfect English accent blending with an Indian lilt. She stood carefully still while Henry looked at her with widened eyes.

“Madhuri Saha...or is it _Mia Ambrose_ now?”

“You know how it is, _Henry Green_. One name is never enough.”

They both broke out into broad grins and it was like a breathe of fresh air had entered the room and lifted everyone's sails. Mia and Henry rushed to give eachother hugs like they were long lost siblings, and Jacob and Evie immediately bolted upright to join them.

Evie looked as relieved as Jacob felt, although she would probably never admit she had trusted this woman long before Henry's arrival.

“It's been, what? Six years? Julian was harsh sending you to the Order so early. Letters are hardly enough to keep abreast of your activities.”

“I know, but I hope some of them have been helpful?” Mia asked curiously. Jacob came around to her and took her hand none too subtly.

Henry glanced down with a spark in his eye and smirked at them. “Absolutely. The Brotherhood took down a few caravans between Jaipur and Mumbai two weeks ago thanks to you.”

Gesturing towards their hands, he teased, “And it would now seem to appear that _both_ Frye twins have a flavor for Eastern spices.”

Jacob and Evie both blushed profusely and Evie grabbed a hold of Henry's arm roughly.

“Why didn't you mention _any_ of this Henry? That Mia was on _our_ side?”

“Evie, it's really not my place to go telling other people's secrets.”

“You'd be telling _us_ , Henry. _Me!_ ”

“I made an oath, Evie. To Julian Murdoch and the woman he considers his _daughter_ ,” he gestured towards Mia. “As much as I care for you, I must respect such promises or they are meaningless.”

“You could've told me we'd be helped by her or _someone_ instead of letting me spend hours brooding over this map!”

“I could not know she would come to see you, Evie. She has every right to be selective about who she trusts--.”

Mia now interrupted and placed a hand on Evie's arm.

“Evie, he's absolutely right. I'm sorry, but only four people know of my position in Starrick's ranks and it took me these six years to turn two into four. It's not an easy thing for me, and I risk my life for every second I am not acting like a Templar.”

The four of them stood in the car in silence, likely wondering the same as Jacob what kind of risk she was in for being with them _now._

“Evie,” Henry broke the silence quietly. “I'd actually like to talk to you in private. About tonight, the blueprints and.…” He gave her a meaningful look and Evie sighed and turned to Mia.

“Mia, it's been a pleasure. Please, let's make time to discuss this further. I won't forget where we've left off. ” Jacob was glad to see that Evie flashed her trademark warm and cuddly smile.

“It's good you are here,” Henry added with a pat on Mia's arm before they both exited and slid the door shut behind them.

The sudden silence made Jacob intensely aware that they were alone again. This time he wasn't dazed from being knocked unconscious. And he wasn't cursing himself for being such a sucker. This woman actually _was_ the real thing.

He tentatively brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it softly, thrilled to see the twinkle it brought to her eyes. That is, until something over his shoulder caught her attention.

She swirled her drink and took a sip as she walked over to his assassination wall. Marred by X's and red lines, it was the perfect bloody little map of his recent adventures.

Twopenny, Elliottson and Attaway all looked at him through satisfyingly red crosses. And then their eyes fell on a single name simultaneously. Jacob made a quick grab for her name that had recently joined their chorus of would-be kills.

Mia laughed and reached it quicker than he could, waving it in front of his face.

“Were you supposed to kill me tonight, Jacob?” she asked lightly, looking coy as she waved the paper at her face like a fan.

Jacob blushed. “Actually, no. Evie told me Starrick would raise a stink if I did.”

“She's right, he would have.” She slid the paper down his chest and he promptly crumpled it up and threw it in a corner. “Doesn't mean you still didn't want to kill me though.”

Jacob smirked and snatched her hand, using it to pull her closer. “If I _didn't_ want to kill you, you wouldn't be doing your _job_ , right?”

She bopped his nose playfully and smirked. “Right you are.”

He crinkled and twitched his nose. Had she actually just done that? Ever so _slightly_ emasculated, he put on his best charming smile and closed in on her. Before he could get close enough, her eyes lit up again and she swooped past him towards his little messy library at the end of the car.

“Are these all yours?” she asked casually, her fingers running along the spines of a few well worn titles, some book haphazardly on their sides, others in random stacks on the floor.

Frozen, lips in mid-purse, he quickly cleared his throat and straighted up, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Ah yes... _well_ , it's funny you should ask because between me _and_ Evie...,” he started expansively but faltering at her teasing glance. “They're Evie's,” he mumbled. “She ran out of space in her _boudoir_ over there.” He walked up behind her as she took out one of Charlie's first editions.

Hands still behind his back, he leaned over her shoulder as she opened the book to the first page. If she didn't want to kiss him, they didn't have to. He could play nice all the same.

“ _It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness...._ ” She murmured the rest for a moment and nodded appreciativly. “Good opening.”

Jacob shrugged. “It's passable. You would never know he was a writer for all the time he spends in that pub.”

“Wait, you've _met_ Charles Dickens?” Mia asked energetically, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Sure, he's only _moderately_ bizarre and has us running around on the most cockamamy errands, but he's a nice enough chap. I'm surprised you haven't been introduced.”

Mia slipped the book back onto the shelf and turned to face him, leaning carefully against the bookshelf. “I don't exactly run in his types of circles,” she said regrettably. “I did meet a young man the other day. An aspiring novelist who was just turned down by every publisher in London.” Mia crinkled her brow in thought. “Tom? Or was it John? _Something_ Hardy.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, I told him not to give up. London publishers can he real tits about true, honest critiques about our daft society.”

“Wait, You mean there are people _other_ than assassins who notice the world has gone to pot?” Jacob teased.

“Of course. And some are quite eloquent and unabashed authors, in fact. Jane Austen and your Mr. Dickens being my two personal favorites.”

“Evie thinks Austen _was_ an assassin.”

“She probably _was_. Charlotte Bronte too, just read Jane Eyre. You should try them some time. A little culture might do you some good,” she said with a smirk.

He smiled and tentatively placed a hand on her waist. “I think I have a good sense of what does me good, thank you. Fine kills, fine drink, and fine company...,” he trailed off as he drew lower to her.

She rested her hand on his chest and gently pushed him away.

“Look, Jacob.” She cast her eyes down to his chest. “I... I should get going....”

“What?” he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. “But why? You only just got here.”

Mia moved passed him so she was no longer cornered between his body and the bookshelf.

“I have a tidy mess to clean up at my warehouse, new guards I need to hire, heads that need to roll...” She lifted her glass to her lips and Jacob followed her very delicate movement; the way her lips puckered over the glasses' edge, her long throat as she swallowed the entire contents in one quick swig, her tongue as it flitted out to carefully licked her bottom lip.

“The mess can wait,” he responded, his voice low as he took another step towards her.

She didn't move away from him but studied him closely as he came towards her.

“To what end, Jacob? What good will come of any of this?” she asked apprehensively.

He moved slowly, giving her ample time to back away from him, but she let him wrap a single arm around her waist and pull her close. She kept her hands up against his chest as a weak barrier, but her body no less relaxed against him.

“What good? Happiness is good. Pleasure, joy. All good things.” His other hand weaved under her hair and around her shoulders so he completely enveloped her. She felt small and slight in his arms, and he idly wondered just how deadly this woman could be.

“Is that all you live for?” she asked sadly, looking at her hands where they rested on the lapels of his thick leather coat.

“It's the only thing _worth_ living for, Mia. What good is freedom if you can't do what makes you happy?”

“There's more to life than unadulterated happiness,” she insisted. At his dubious look, she shook her head roughly. “And what makes you think I'm _free_?” Her voice was a harsh whisper and came out more like an accusation.

He paused and searched her darkened eyes, at a loss for words.

“I'm here at the risk of being found out,” she continued. “I'm here because I want to help but that doesn't mean I can just come and go as I please. Powerful men resent me and _watch_ me, waiting to bring me low. I live and breathe among our enemies, Jacob. There is no freedom in that.”

She shoved at his chest half heartedly. “And then _you_ come along like some rogue in the night and _distract_ me. I'm minding my own business, threatening your life...,” she started toying with his lapels, her tone changing enough that Jacob ventured a small smile, “and I spend all week thinking about _you_ when I should be working, or being a bitch or...just… _not_ thinking about _you_.”

Her dark eyes moved up to meet his and her lips broadened in a grin. “And I finally see you after a week and you look like a bruised _fruit_ cart.”

Jacob reached up and touched his eye. “Is it really that bad? I swear I can see now.”

“Yeah? And what do you see?” she teased, ever so slightly raising herself onto her toes.

“A woman minding her own business, who threatened to make me a new necktie...,” he leaned in closer. “And who _I_ haven't stopped thinking about for a week.…”

“Really?” She suddenly pulled back. “Even _after_ the library fiasco? What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Yes, I know, Mia! You drove me to drink and into the arms of crazy men like Roth!”

She laughed and he took the opportunity to close the space between them. Their kiss was everything and _nothing_ like a week ago. It was her same soft lips that he remembered and dreamed of, but now she was more relaxed, more at ease. She tasted of brandy and cherries…when had they eaten cherries?

Her hands slid up from his chest to wrap around his neck and he held her more tightly against him. The dull pain of his bruised chest faded as he relished the warmth and pressure of her body against him.

Jacob couldn't know how long they stood there, locked together, sinking deeper into eachother. He pulled away from her lips to slide over to her ear, loose strands of her hair tickling his face as he kissed her soft warm skin and listened to her breathe in his ear.

“Do you still want to go?” he murmured.

She sighed and held him tighter. “I never said I _wanted_ to go,” she whispered. Entangled as they were, his lips never parting from her skin, he walked them slowly towards his bed.

She laid herself down on his mismatched pile of pillows and pulled him on top of her, her kisses more urgent and passionate.

“I thought this was your sitting car,” she whispered, moving towards his ear.

“You _were_ sitting,” he rumbled gruffly. “And now you're _not_.”

She laughed quietly. “Touche, Mr. Frye.…” Her voice trailed off as his hands slipped beneath her shirt, sliding along the warm silky skin of her hips and waist.

Jacob Frye would never _be_ a poet or a writer. He spoke eloquently but acted too quickly. Yet there could be no denying he was an artist, of a kind. Every assassin of his caliber was one. While his usual paint brush left a trail of bodies in his wake, he had an arsenal of other tools at his disposal.

It on this night that he would put them to their best, most gratifying use.

As the minutes whispered by, he made himself unlearn everything he knew about this woman from that first night. The danger was deeper but more distant now and so he patiently rediscovered her. Her body rose and fell to his careful touch as he searched for her every secret place, acting and reacting, ever the observer.

When he trailed a finger over her bare hips, she rose to his touch. Kissing her stomach, her fingers ran through and tugged at his hair. When his thumb rasped against her nipple, her breathe hitched and held in breathless anticipation.

He moved with slow deliberation, honey against her skin that left a trail of sweetness from one movement to the next.

They soon disappeared as bodies in the dark, becoming only their heightened senses. She smelled like the warmth of a hearth fire, comforting and safe. Her every sigh was the whisper of wind through tall blades of summer grass.

In her throws, she clung to him like she would fall into a deep abyss if she ever let go. This woman he hardly knew, who lived a life of guarded caution, threw that caution to the wind for _him_. And he _would_ thank her for it.

The city, with it's old gears ever turning through the night, the centuries, the millennia, slid past them as the train rattled perpetually in it's circuitous path. With it, London's great villains and heroes, it's mysteries and complexities became a distant memory, one for a different day, a different life.

As the night wore on, Jacob knew he was right. Happiness _was_ worth living for, and this is what it heard and felt like; what it tasted like. He could only hope she knew it too.

Before they fell asleep in each other's arms, hearts still racing and limbs impossibly tangled and tired, Jacob felt a new sweet silence. This one spoke of peace, of hope, of happiness. With their arms encircling eachother and their lives intertwined, there could be no denying _this_ was different.

He would never be a poet or an author. He was too sharp of tongue and quick of deed. But he knew better men than he. His last thought before drifting off to sleep, her last kisses lingering on his lips, was if Mr. Dickens would know what to call this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


	15. The Chains We Forge

When the bright light hit her face, for a brief moment, Mia thought she had fallen asleep in her office again. It was always a beautiful slow glow that unveiled her day on those mornings she would curl up on the couch. Unless she didn't _want_ to wake up, which happened more and more often lately.

But it only took another moment more before she realized where she actually was and she startled fully awake in alarm. She'd meant to leave after Jacob had fallen asleep. Her own limbs had been so relaxed, so exhausted, and he felt so good, so close, she had kept pushing it back, and back...and now she'd have hell to pay.

_Shit, shit, shit. Shit!_

Her arm tingled something fierce and she looked over to see Jacob sleeping soundly against it, his other arm draped over her bare stomach. He looked absolutely peaceful, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly and his bruised eye already looking less grapefruity.

She was keenly aware of their constant movement on the tracks and was mildy surprised they didn't get nauseous more often.

She slid herself out from under him as carefully as possible, inch by inch, slowly.…steadily... until she abruptly tumbled to the floor with a loud thud. She rubbed her bare hip and scowled. The bed wasn't big enough for _two_ people…in fact, it really wasn't even a bed.

She clambered to her knees, letting just her eyes peek over the edge of the couch bed to see if she had woken him. Apparently this one could sleep through anything.

Now, finding all her clothes would be a feat of its own. Her underwear had made it all the way to the far desk, the last thing he'd flung off and the first thing she needed. In about five minutes and another two trying to slide her glove out from under him, she was entirely dressed. She adjusted her holster and her knife belt, and straighted out her hair as best she could.

Sliding open the car door, a loud _whoosh_ of air erupted into the car and Mia looked back to see Jacob's naked form stir…and the sight of him distracted her for another few seconds more.

She wasn't sure where they were exactly, but she'd reorient herself once she was on non-moving ground. First she had to prepare to jump out of a moving train for the first time.

Arms braced on either side of the opening, she decided it'd be best to count to three as the ground whizzed by beneath her....

One... Two....

“Mia?” Jacob's sleepy voice called out to her from behind.

She turned and saw him rubbing his face and abruptly flinching when he caught his eye. “Are you leaving?”

“I've overstayed my welcome, Jacob. I have to go,” she said urgently.

Jacob managed to open both his eyes and looked up at her. “You're _always_ welcome here, Mia.”

“Thank you, but I'll see you later, okay?” and she turned to jump out.

“When?”

She could feel frustration edge into her voice. “I don't _know_. I'll send word through Julian. Or Henry. I _have_ to _go_.”

“Why?!” _Damn._ She turned around again, the question in her eyes. “Why do you _have_ to go?” he repeated more quietly.

His wide eyed thoughtful expression was more than she could bear, and she could swear that he was pouting.

She swung back around towards him and leapt into his arms, kissing him hard.

“You don't have to live like this,” he whispered when they parted. “You could be an assassin when you wake up, when you fall sleep, and all the time in between.”

“It's not that easy, Jacob,” she protested.

“Sure it is. It's only as difficult as you want it it be. I can share a bed until we get you your own car.” He laughed as she looked at the narrow couch skeptically. “Okay, okay, I'll even get a _real_ bed. I can compromise.”

She smirked at his earnest proposal. “How about we talk about it next time? We can miss eachother for a while first.”

“I'd rather not,” he pouted.

She kissed him quickly again. “Thank you,” she whispered. She wasn't sure what exactly she was giving her thanks _for_ but he'd earned it all the same.

Without another word, and a new elation in her heart that she was afraid to look at too closely, she bounded off the train.

She stumbled badly, taking more than a few staggering steps as the train wizzed by behind her. She looked up to see Jacob nearly fully leaning out of his car, buck naked with only his private bits hiding behind the door and waving at her exhuberantly.

She laughed and blew him a kiss, which he caught perfectly, before the train disappeared around the bend.

Mia stood there for a moment, to reintroduce herself to solid ground and just to relish the moment.

Jacob Frye was something...different. No. _Exceptionally_ different. And the way he looked at her made her _feel_ exceptionally different.

As she walked towards the nearest corner to hail a carriage, she relished the sweet soreness in her body from their evening escapade. She hadn't thought he could be more passionate then he already had been. She was glad to be wrong.

A shiver ran through her, unbidden, as she directed the driver back to her warehouse.

With time to kill, her thoughts drifted lazily between Jacob and the havoc she'd have to deal with today.

Her vaults were renowned for their security and Order members would ask a lot of questions now about how someone had gotten in. An assassin, no less, if word got out.

_…He'd been so careful, so thoughtful, finding places that made her shiver even now. His eyes had been so darkly intense when she had caught glimpses of him in the fickle light, willing her to fall further and further into some nameless ecstasy…._

The families of the dead guards would be in an uproar. She'd directed the bodies be taken out before she'd rejoined Jacob in the underground, and set the gears in motion for proper arrangements. It was a dangerous job being a security guard at Templar bases. The Fryes had already seen to that by clearing out most of Starrick's warehouses already....

_...when he had lain beside her, both of them sweaty and exhausted, he'd continued to caress her face and hair, willing himself to stay awake. She'd done the same, kissing his scratchy cheeks and being careful to avoid his bruises in the dark. They had just wanted to be near eachother, in some desperate fear that it would be the last time. She hoped beyond reasonable hope that it would not be.…_

Starrick would get wind of this. She needed to frame the evening's event like a fluke of some sort. It couldn't be the Fryes that had penetrated her stronghold. It had to be anyone but them so Starrick never caught wind of their other pursuits. They still needed to see the vault, help her understand all that she had learned.

The carriage abruptly stopped and she looked up in a daze to see they had reached her building. Paying the man, she exited with all the dignity and grace of her station, hoping she looked better than she felt.

Before she made it two firm steps to her door, one of her men ran up to her, looking completely frazzled.

“Miss Ambrose! We have a situation!”

She brushed him away carelessly. “Yes, I know. The situation is being handled, ” she said coldly.

“Ma'am, after you left, we found the men who'd done the killings.”

“What?” The man gave a satisfying flinch under her heated glare, but she felt a cursory relief at this strange turn of events.

“After we cleared out the...deceased...a group of men were found and killed... But one... one said something....” The man twisted his hands nervously, anxious to make sure he phrased everything properly. Mia tapped her foot as abnoxiously as possible, her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

“Yes?” she urged impatiently. It was one of the downsides of being terrifying; no one felt comfortable giving her bad news.

“One of them said they didn't actually _do_ the killing? That they didn't even know who hired them...”

“How could he _not_ know?”

“I don't know ma'am, but he said...they were only meant to make you look... _weak_.”

Mia's eyes narrowed darkly and the man immediately cringed under her wrath.

“But we knew they'd done it!” he added hastily. “We knew he was lying, so's we killed him--!”

“Yes, you saw right through him and now _I_ have no one to question!” she barked. “Go. And call for Edward Stanton to meet me in my office. Now!”

“Ma'am, Mr. Stanton is already awaiting you in your office.”

Mia felt anger form powerfully in her chest. She nodded quickly to the man and started to walk away. The man continued to stammer incomprehensibly behind her, but she refused to wait for him to finish.

There was only one man degenerate enough to hire men just to exploit her weaknesses. It meant Stanton had known her vaults were devoid of her usual guards. Maybe even that a Frye was to blame. _Her_ men were stupid enough to not know the work of an assassin, but Stanton knew well from personl experience. If there was a way to get Starrick's attention right now, _this_ was it.

She walked with long confident strides up to her offices on the third floor. The men she passed on the way greeted her with their usual meek nods, but she sensed an added hint of dread she couldn't shake off.

She opened her door forcefully, and stopped short.

Her well appointed offices glowed with the pure light from the morning sun. It streaked in beautiful golden beams like clean ribbons, blanketing her plush upholstery and dark wooden furniture. The morning light was always the most beautiful here, creating an ethereal cozy space from another world.

It would be a lovely, peaceful room....

If the beams weren't lit upon Edward Stanton leaning against her overflowing bookshelf, arms crossed and smiling haughty.

And Crawford Starrick, sitting at her desk, looking down at the papers she had there, fingers steepled in deep thought.

Mia forgot to breathe.

“Ah, Mia, how nice of you to join us,” Edward simpered in his most abnoxious honeyed tones. His nose was still badly bruised from where Evie Frye had broken it, and Mia had half a mind to add to her efforts.

“Indeed,” Starrick agreed thoughtfully, not looking up at her. His voice was low and calculating. “I would expect my most loyal employees to be at their posts, fixing the egregious leaks in their otherwise _perfect_ ships. ”

Mia mustered her courage and marched into her office without an ounce of hesitation in her step.

“Unfortunately the leaks in my ship tonight _required_ my absence, Crawford. My guards were less than worthy and they needed replacing.” She was one of the few people privileged to call Starrick by his first name. Even Stanton hadn't earned that right yet.

“Is that right?” He raised only his cold cruel eyes to her, his sinister stare piercing into her lie. “Did you find any?”

“In fact, I did,” Mia said with confidence, not letting his gaze peer too closely. He had a way of finding the truth that she did not want to test. “The Fryes have disenfranchised enough loyal men in this city to create a pool ripe for the picking. I only need to interview them _personally_ to grant them the honor of guarding these vaults.”

“Excellent,” Starrick said without enthusiasm. He stood up slowly from her chair with hands clasped behind his back and walked towards her with slow deliberation.

He stood before her, taking stock of her appearance. “I'm happy to see you're _not_ well rested, at least. It would be unseemly if you slept _well_ after such folly.”

“Undoubtedly,” she said cooly. The fewer words she used when he was like this, the better.

“My patience has been worn thin by those two _children_ , but they have granted me one gift... The ability to see my weaknesses where I thought I was _strong_.” He looked pointedly at her as he waved his hand to the warehouse. “You see, I am running low on faithful servants, Miss Ambrose,” he said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “But I never hesitate to cull my ranks if I am so required. Tell me. Am I required?”

“Sir?” She asked it with as much genuine confusion as she could muster.

He moved to stand behind her and leaned close so she could only see his profile. A shiver ran through her at his proximity that she hoped her rigid stance concealed.

“Your ability to guard the valuable imports of our Order have been tested and found _severely_ wanting. It makes me wonder if the other whispers I hear about you are true.”

He paused, letting his words hang in the air. Dust drifted lazily in and out of the light before them, dancing in an endless waltz as Mia's breathe grew shallow.

“If I am not mistaken, your quickness to turn against your assassin benefactor has always been a point of suspicion for many,” and Starrick looked pointedly at Stanton smiling smugly across the room. “But I've trusted in your allegiance to the Order, and to your _family._ Have I been wrong?”

The silence rang like a bell through the room, and Mia swore he could hear her frantic heart beat.

“Murdoch _killed_ my family, Crawford. It's not something I'll likely soon forget.”

“ _Naturally_.” Starrick walked swiftly around to stand between her and Stanton, grinning at both of them with arms held wide. “See Edward? You've brought me here with trifles!”

In a flash of metal that glinted brilliantly in the light, Starrick drew two knives and flung them out towards either of them. Mia gasped and rocked sharply as the blade cut deeply into her shoulder before sinking into the door behind her. Edward sounded less lucky, and she looked up to see the blade embedded deeply into the meat of his arm.

“Apologies, Edward.” Starrick bowed low and sounded entirely unapologetically. “A miscalculation. And I trust _you_ will have fewer of them on your part as well.”

He clapped his hands once and rubbed them together with the bearing of finality. “Shall we let bygones be bygones? Edward, stop sending low life thieves into Mia's sanctuary to prove a point.”

So it was true. The thieves had distracted Starrick from the truth.

“Mia.” Her momentary relief promptly vanished. Starrick strode over to her quickly and grabbed her bloodied and torn shoulder. He dug his fingers into the deep wound and she shrunk weakly from the blinding pain.

The glint of a blade appeared again, and Starrick hovered it an inch over her eye. “I will be watching you. Every letter, every contract, every note you scribble is to come through me. I will know your comings and goings _daily_ and you _will_ secure this property or I promise you. My second blade will not miss.”

Without another word, Starrick stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.  
Stanton stumbled forward, pulling the blade out and dropping it in her floor.

“You dirty asshole,” she spat. “You're a fucking coward, you know that!” she yelled. “He should have _killed_ you!”

“He wouldn't _dare,_ ” Stanton spat. “He's got nothing without Thorne. He _needs_ me.”

“He needs you like you need that hole in your fucking shoulder. Get out!”

Stanton laughed thickly as he made his staggering way to the door. “And so the golden child is brought low. He'll be watching you now, Ambrose. I suggest you make quick work of finding my answers or else Starrick will soon set his sights on finer things than dirty old shrouds.”

He slammed the door behind him and Mia sank into her chair. Her entire arm sang with pain and tears came unbidden to her eyes as she shuffled through her desk for bandages.

Frustration, anger, hatred and bitter resentment all welled up and boiled over inside her.

Because Stanton was right.

She was out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The so the next chapter will be the last of this little saga. Thanks for sticking around and thank you so much for reading!


	16. Of All The Words Of Mice And Men...

The week that passed was one of the most frustrating in Jacob's recent memory.

The satisfaction of Roth's death only turned to ash when he realized how utterly _insane_ he was. How had he not seen it? He warped and twisted the notion of freedom until it was nothing but chaos. It was maddening!

More dangerous than any Templar, Mia had said. A complete understatement.

He had then found the Prime Minister with a shiny new target on his back which Jacob had promptly removed with his usual devilish charm and panache. It was all well and good and England was saved again from Starrick's sinister machinations.

But then there was Evie. She recognized his efforts with as much disdain as if he'd done nothing at _all_. He could have sat back and watched London fall to pieces and _she_ would have been hung up on his _methods_. It was rubbish.

She had started to pointedly ignore Piri's map since they'd heard nothing from Mia for a whole week. The shroud suddenly became the greater threat and Buckingham Palace a safer place to close in on Starrick.

Evie. Always one to take the safest path. If Starrick wasn't about to assassinate every head of state, Jacob had half a mind to leave his sister to her obsession.

The other half of his mind was intent on finding where Mia was. She wasn't someone he exactly bumped into on his daily routine of gang brawls and bodyguard assignments. While he was busy enough to _ignore_ his concern for her, he wasn't nearly busy enough to _forget_.

He lay on his couch in the dim car, pillowing his head with one arm and idly twirling a throwing knife between his fingers as he watched the twilight transform his ceiling from orange, red to purple. He would need to get up soon. Evie planned to go to Buckingham the next evening so he had some _significant_ drinking to get started on.

The hushed whisper of fabric and soft thud of boots hitting his floor made him bolt upright.

In the dim light of the car, Jacob smiled at the beautiful sight before him. Mia gracefully crouched on the floor of his car like a cat and slowly rose as he walked over to her. Her hair was a wind blown mess of curls and it was the first thing he reached out for, letting his fingers tangle among them in an already familiar gesture.

His smile faded quickly at the weary exhaustion in her eyes. She looked worn thin and anxious, her face drawn and full lips pale.

“Mia?” he asked quietly, touching her cheek lightly with concern as she looked up at him wretchedly.

She pulled him down roughly by the lapels of his coat and kissed him with all the ferocity of their lost week. She wrapped one arm around his neck and clung to him desperately, every inch of her rigid and stiff as he held her in his arms. He finally pulled back to see tears swimming in her large dark eyes.

“What is it?” he demanded more forcefully.

“Do you remember what you said last week? Before I left?”

Jacob remembered it well. He'd had a week to mull it over, considering how odd it was for _him_ to be beholden to _anyone_. He'd skittered around the idea even, partially afraid to look at the thought directly. But her standing here now erased all of that in an instant. Without a second thought, he nodded and took her hands.

“Yes,” he said reassuringly. “And I meant every word.”

“Well, it would appear I'm a full time assassin then. This whole charade is over for me, Jacob. I've spent the week seeing to all my affairs. Starrick suspects too much, watches me too closely now--.”

“Well that's _fantastic_!” he grinned and she stared at him in surprise. He held her back at arms length, about to try his best to cheer her up, until she flinched sharply under his touch and he quickly pulled his hand away.

She gingerly touched the top of her shoulder and grimaced as she rolled it slowly. “Starrick's parting words,” she muttered.

Jacob scowled and glanced at her shoulder, roiling at the thought of Starrick laying his hands on her. “Evie and I are due to kill him tomorrow night,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Kill him?” Mia said wonderingly. “In Buckingham?”

“Yes, he's racing towards his little power trip and we'll be there to stop him,” Jacob said darkly, watching her reaction. Mia paled significantly and shook her head fiercely. “Why, what's wrong with that?”

“Tomorrow night will be too late.”

“Well…,” Jacob shrugged helplessly, “we could _try_ to kill him tonight, but I'm fairly certain he's in a fortress.”

“No, I'm here because Stanton has quite indelicately informed me that he plans to tell Starrick about the map _tonight_.”

Mia stepped away from him and started pacing across his car. “I warned you I'd only bought you time. Now he's desperate and knows Starrick has resources he doesn't. He'll tell him everything he knows and _thinks_ he knows. ”

Mia stopped her pacing and looked up at him sharply. “Our time is up. We have to go _tonight_.”

“Go where?” It was his turn to be surprised. He honestly hadn't thought any of this would escalate before they'd dealt with Starrick, and now they were so close.

“It's not something I can just explain, Jacob. You have to see for yourself.” She took his hands roughly between hers. “Where is Evie? We need to go _now_.”

Jacob nodded to her car dismissivly. “Likely pondering ways to be _insufferable_ in her room.”

Mia gave him a moment's pause, her question hanging silently between them, and he couldn't help but grimace. “I think we've had quite enough of eachother for this life.”

“What do you mean?” Mia asked carefully.

“Exactly that. After tomorrow, we part ways.” The disappointment and confusion on Mia's expression was more poignant than anything she could've said. “It's better this way, trust me. We'll be better people for it.”

“Yes, well, if that's where your head is at, you wouldn't want to see the truth of it anyway,” she said icily.

She turned on her heel, leaving Jacob a little raw from her comment. Truth of what? It was what it was and was for the best.

Mia tapped on Evie's door and slid it open. Jacob watched as Evie lit up at the sight of her and gave Mia a swift hug. So she _had_ been worried too.

To his sister's credit, she'd never breathed a word about his feelings for Mia, even after he'd lain on his own guilt trip about Henry. It made him wonder whether she actually thought Mia was good for him, or whether it ensured she was off the hook, which she undoubtedly was.

Evie followed Mia back into his car and Jacob couldn't help himself the moment he saw her. “Ah Evie, I'm glad to see I won't have to take you to the doctor.”

Evie gave him a pointed look and deadpanned, “Why, Jacob. _Why_ would you have to take me to the doctor.”

“To surgically remove the stick up your arse, of course.” He scrunched his nose and shifted awkwardly. “Must be dreadfully uncomfortable.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “It's a shame, really. Now I have nothing to smack you over the head with.”

He grinned broadly, and while Evie's eyes narrowed, her lips twitched ever so slightly.

Mia heaved a heavy sigh of exasperation. “You two are incorrigible.”

“We know,” Jacob said with a playful wink.

“Can you both come with me? Tonight? Now?” Mia was making it abundantly clear she was in no mood for jokes and she leveled a look at them both.

“Where?” Evie seemed as hesitant as he was. “With all of our preparations for tomor--.”

“The vault. There is one here in London.” They were like magic words to her ears and Evie's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas.

“Back into your building? Do you really think that's wise?” Jacob rubbed his cheek with unwanted nostalgia. His face was finally back to normal and he rather liked it that way.

“You'll see,” Mia said mysteriously. “Bring the map, Evie. With the case.”

* * *

The three of them were like dark inky shadows in the night, racing along the rooftops under the moonless sky. The clouds had swept in with with the sunset and hung low tonight, threatening a deluge.

To Jacob's surprise, they weren't heading towards her warehouses on the dock. In fact, they were heading towards the City of London, far from the docks of the Thames. If Jacob wasn't mistaken, they were bounding towards his favorite vantage point in London.

Saint Paul's cathedral loomed like a mountain before them in the gloom, and Evie and Jacob exchanged a curious look as Mia found a completely concealed hatch in an ally a block away from the cathedral.

“Where are we going?” Jacob's voice echoed in the dark tunnels they entered, lead only by the solitary lamp in Mia's hand.

“Saint Paul's,” Mia said simply.

“I gathered as much, but why? Those doors were in _your_ building.”

“What doors?” Evie asked, sounding perturbed he hadn't told her every little detail already.

Jacob did his best to describe what he had seen, including what only they could see through his eagle vision, which peaked Mia's interest as well.

“Unfortunately, while my vault is sacred to people who keep their goods there, it's about as holy a site as your train.”

“That's an excellent idea,” Jacob grinned in the gloom. “Consecrated trains, does such a thing exist?”

“It's probably best you keep the train neutral ground, Jacob. So why are the doors in your vault?” Evie asked.

“It's the only way to keep curious people focused on the wrong location. Stanton has brooded for hours before those doors, dying to know what's inside. I kept men there to add to the allure.”

“Well it worked, ” Jacob muttured and winced, rubbing the side of his face resentfully.

Mia opened another hatch but this one was hardly larger than a crawl space. It broke away from the more recently constructed tunnels and Jacob struggled to fit his broad shoulders through while Evie and Mia glided along like stalking cats ahead of him.

“What's inside them?” Evie asked as they wound their way through the darkness.

“A brand new brick wall.”

“But the doors are real,” Jacob insisted. “I saw the column. Plus they're God awfully _old_.” His coat got caught on the rough hewn stone and he tugged at it impatiently.

“The doors _are_ real. They were pulled from the site my family found in India. The doors are relics themselves, invaluable without the help of anything on the otherside of them.”

“And Saint Paul's has what? Another fantastic set of doors?” Jacob asked skeptically.

“Not quite.”

They walked on in silence for a few long minutes and Jacob noted they were moving steeply downwards. While sliding down wasn't a problem in the narrow space, getting back up would be something of a challenge .

It felt like forever before Mia finally stopped and pushed hard at a large thick stone block that glided silently on hinges.

They all crawled out of the tunnel, dusting themselves off. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom, Jacob and Evie looked up and were in instant awe of the chamber they found themselves in.

It was a massive circular cavern, with no doors that he could see and a ceiling that reached so high there was nothing but darkness beyond the lantern light.

The walls around them weren't made of the thick hewn stone they'd just left. These walls were like _glass_. Black glass. Jacob would've said obsidian or granite, but it looked more _liquid_ than that. There was not a single flaw, a single scratch of a workman's chisle that he could detect in what little light they were granted.

Rightly guessing their wonder, Mia silently handed Evie the lantern and the two of them slowly walked the perimeter in speechless wonder. Jacob cautiously held out his fingertips and let the smooth stone slide under his skin. Not a divot or a dent, and cool to the touch. The entire structure was a solid peace of _something_.

The circumference was so massive it took more than a few minutes for them to come back around to Mia. She gave them a grim smile as she took the lantern back from Evie.

“Is this a Grande Temple?” Evie whispered, their voices strangely dampened in the space, as if it was filled with more than the nothingness they saw.

“No,” Mia said confidently. “This room isn't on any of Piri's known maps, and he only documented temples.” She narrowed her eyes cautiously at them, and seemed to consider how best to continue. “Would you believe it if I said that the Murdochs found this room on a _hunch_?”

“Nope,” Jacob blurted instantly. He realized too late it was a rhetorical question and it earned him an impatient glare.

“Piri lead the Murdochs to amazing temples in the last century. Each seemed to have been made for a distinct, unknown purpose. They were all markedly different from each other except for one commonality between them. Depictions that lead them to believe great distances were somehow connected all around the world.”

Mia took a few steps towards them and Jacob was again amazed that her step didn't resound on the smooth black stone floor. In fact, the only hint of humanity he'd seen was the door they had come through.

“It's Julian's favorite little mystery in his otherwise practical life. It's their theory that great unseen channels pass overhead or within the earth itself to create these connections. The fact that you saw these lines on Piri's map, corroborating his family's theory, was rather thrilling for him.”

“Thrilling? Really? He seriously acted like we were talking about my elbow,” Jacob retorted skeptically.

Mia smiled at that and shrugged. “He knew I'd reach out to you and fill in the gaps.”

“But how could they find _this_ on a hunch?” Evie asked in bewilderment. Jacob mused at how every thought of the shroud must have flitted away from her by now.

“Maybe an educated guess is a better term. It's like...I don't know....” Mia paused in thought, lookin past them to the walls for an answer. “It's like going to the shore in hopes you'll find a boat. You may or may not find one right _there_ , on that beach, but your chances are better than finding one in the mountains.”

She sighed and threw up her hands in exasperation at their motionless faces.

“Okay, okay. I've spent a decade studying this, so pardon _me_ if my means to explain it all are shit.” She cast her eyes between the both of them, taking a deep breathe before trying again.

“The Murdochs surmise that the lines are actually _conduits_ that span the globe. They didn't have the advantage of the sight or Piri's map to tell them where the conduits were, but they read the shoddy reports of what had been found under Santiago de Compostela and what my own family found under the Taj Mahal.”

Mia then started pacing slightly, absently wringing her hands as she spoke. If Jacob wasn't so rapt to her words, he'd have found it another endearing habit of hers.

“They gambled in a _big_ way and excavated beneath Stone Henge first. Mind you, they started nearly a mile away to work their way towards it. You know, to avoid an uproar of every historical society on the planet. But it paid off. They found a room there just like _this_. Utterly demolished but _there_ , without a doubt.

She stopped and looked up at them, blowing out a breathe quickly and studying their expressions for any sign of disbelief. Jacob was pretty sure his was still stupidly blank.

“So they gambled, again and again. They were mostly unlucky. Rosalyn Chapel turned up nothing, as did Westminster Abby.”

“You must be joking? They _randomly_ dug up England to find these rooms?” Evie asked, crossing her arms and looking rather peeved.

“No, no.” Mia raised up her hands in a placating gesture. “What I'm trying to say, and _obviously_ failing at, is that they realized these rooms would only be found beneath sacred sites. Temples, monuments, _cathedrals_. They only found this site earlier this century, when Julian was still just a boy.”

“Was he ever?” Jacob joked, and was dutifully ignored.

“It means that the Taj Mahal, Stone Henge, the cathedral in Spain, all lie on the the convergence of these lines. You know this! You saw it yourself on the map. It only validates they're on the right track. There are thousands of potential sites!”

“How is that even possible, Mia?” The sharp rational mind of his sister was coming on strong and Jacob only hoped Mia could pit herself against it.

“Sure, we saw it on Piri's map. A map that was _made_ in the fourteenth century,” Evie continued. “Stone Henge? Seriously, that has been there for _millenia_ , Mia! And was built _over_ these rooms! How would anyone know to build here or at any of those places unless they had a map of those lines?”

“I know how impossible it sounds, Evie,” Mia offered. Her own temperament steadied and she lowered her voice back down. “There is one thing you have to remember though. Humanity is superstitious by nature. We look for signs of divine intervention in loaves of bread and weeping statues. If these lines are truly conduits, it means they have an almost _electrical_ power where they meet. The experience it's induced since time immemorial is practically _divine_.”

She turned away from them then and started walking slowly towards the center of the room, forcing them to follow. “The best example is Moses hearing the voice of God on Mount Sinai. An otherwise nondescript location, with no monuments or significance to speak of, held a profound experience for him. Suspending the belief that he _actually_ heard God, the other explanation is that it _must_ lie on one such convergence.”

“Right. Let's try telling a few million people _that_ one,” Jacob quipped.

“Why are any holy sites where they are? Before anything was built atop of them, these locations invoked a powerful feeling, maybe even something akin to paranoia. Just multiplied a hundred, _thousand_ fold, felt by thousands of people with a shared experience...until our simple minds could only attribute it to _God_.”

“My mind is _not_ simple,” Jacob reminded her as he stepped up beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

They stood before a stone pedestal that rose only as high as his waist but was identical to the column he'd seen depicted on the vault doors. He wasn't sure how they had missed it in the total darkness of the cavern because it emitted a pulsing yellow glow in intricate and complicated geometrical lines and shapes all along it's length and flat topped surface.

“Humanity didn't need a map, Evie. They followed their hearts. And _this_ is why we're here. This is what these lines point to. When the Murdochs found this room, the original pedestal was destroyed.” Jacob thought it looked perfectly whole to him, but Mia sensed his question as Evie stepped up next to her. “It wasn't until Julian took possession of my family's artifacts that they moved that pedestal _here_. That vault was like Stone Henge, crumbling and nearly destroyed but for _this_.”

They all looked at the pedestal in silence as the light within pulsed steadily like a heartbeat, casting a small halo of golden light around it.

“What's it doing?” Jacob asked in a low tone, crouching down on his haunches to get eye level with the column. Mia's hand rested lightly on his shoulder and she squeezed him gently.

“What it's been doing for nine years,” Mia responded distantly. Her eyes roamed the empty space around them as her voice came out reverently hushed. “I wonder...,” she started. “Could you both turn on your sight?” She met Jacob's curious gaze. “Please?”

Jacob slowly stood and regarded her for a moment. There was something in the tone of her voice that worried him. Her expression gave nothing away, and with a quick glance at Evie, they both complied.

The thick inky blackness of the walls and room instantly disappeared and transformed into a brilliantly white space. The floors and walls were impossibly clean and bright, like they stood in a blank world, with no distinction between up or down, left or right. If he didn't know his feet were firmly planted on the ground, he would've thought he was floating.

Jacob's mouth slowly fell open as objects and structures in shimmering gold projections sprouted from the floors and walls. They took shape in three dimensions, as real as anything in the city above. Great sheer walls of buildings crawled upwards and onwards into the open space above them, soaring into the ceiling as if there was nothing there to stop them.

More structures took shape and Jacob gripped Mia's hand firmly to keep himself grounded as a city quickly blossomed around them, all shimmering gold and in stunning detail. Great buildings, straight and thin as an arrow, had glass panels and metal framework that glittered under an unseen sun.

Furtively squeezing Mia's hand, Jacob took a tentative step towards a large fountain in front of him, it's golden water sparkling as it cascaded into its illusionary bowl. He reached out to touch the water and of course, his hand passed right through it.

He walked around slowly, seeing his sister's and Mia's green outlines in the corners of his vision as he moved around the room with Mia at his side. It was an entire world in gold relief.

“Jacob,” Evie said wonderingly as she spun in circles with her neck craned upwards. “I know this place.”

He turned to her and paused, afraid to let go of Mia's hand for fear he'd lose himself in this place. Mia stood patiently and watched them, a silent knowing look in her eyes.

Evie turned to him now, and in the distance past her, he noted that they must be standing on a simulated rise in the earth. Buildings were still impossibly tall but sprouted below them. At this vantage point, he could swear he saw the glinting of sunlight reflecting off water.

“I saw this place in Stanton's vault,” she whispered.

The Thames. It snaked in it's familiar way past the bright buildings, shimmering and glowing like a river of gold.

“London... but not,” he muttered, remembering her story as they had scaled down the very building above their heads.

As they moved, the city seemed to grow larger. Even with their limited space, he imagined they could walk blocks upon blocks and the city would move with them. The most brilliant and ever insistent building was a tall spire that seemed to shimmer and move to keep itself at the center of his vision. It was an astonishingly tall tower, thin and made entirely of glass, with a painfully sharp peak that disappeared into the heavens.

“What do you suppose that is?” Jacob asked, more to himself than to either of them. He was properly surprised when Mia squeezed his hand in response.

“The spire,” she whispered.

He looked down at her shapely. “You can see this?” he asked, with not a little hint of shock in his voice. They had turned on their sight for a reason, so Mia should still have been standing in the dark.

“I did. Once.” It was the only few words she offered him in explanation as she looked up at him. “Go to it.”

Utterly confused now, he walked. It felt foolish, knowing none of this was real, walking towards a building that didn't even exist. It amazingly grew closer as they moved towards it and before too long they stood before a pair of gargantuan glass doors. Before he could stop to wonder how he would manage to push them open, they kept walking and went straight through to the inside.

A familiar pedestal stood before them in the distance, glowing and pulsing brightly as they continued onwards. Something seemed to lay atop it, and it glowed with the same persistent light.

Jacob and Evie glanced at eachother as they came to a stop before it. It _was_ the same pedestal. They had worked their way around the room and had come back to where they had started. Folded across it neatly was a large piece of fabric, glowing a radiant gold. While the pedestal was real, the fabric was not, an illusion placed precisely over a reality.

“Is that...?” Evie reached out a hand towards the fabric, her fingers passing right through the material.

“What's going on, Mia?” Jacob asked. “What is this place?”

Mia released his hand and moved towards the pedestal. Jacob took a final look at the amazing, strange world around him, in awe that such a place existed, _once_ existed, right _here_.

His vision returned to normal and he was instantly thrust into the darkness. The blackness around him was all the darker for the blinding brightness he had come from and his eyes took a moment to adjust.

“Evie,” Mia started quietly, still gazing at the pedestal before them. “You asked me how I found the connection to solar flairs in all those numbers. Julian brought me here a few years after bringing the pedestal in, to show me where it would be safe. I suppose I fell victim to this place like millions before me.” She sighed softly, helplessly. “I felt power here, not really understanding what it was, and found myself never wanting to be far from it. So, I spent more than a lot of time here....”

Imagining Mia as a girl, sitting in this darkness alone was more than a little unnerving. Granted, Jacob had likely been slashing at sand bags for knife practice at the same time, an endeavor just as unlikely for an eleven year old.

“I brought books and ledgers here,” she continued. “Read about Templars and Assassins, about our neverending war and what little we know about the Ones Who Came Before. I spent hours here...,” she said wistfully as she looked around, her nostalgia ebbing into her dark eyes.

“So it wasn't quite blind luck that I was here, in this room, on September 2nd, 1859. It's a date I remember well and I've been searching for connections to it ever since. And then you both came along with those answers.” She looked up to smile at them both weakly.

Mia gestured to the empty space around them. “Everthing you saw, I saw with my plain, boring eyes when the sun hit us that day. The echoes of another city, in another time, in this place....”

She crouched low and ran her fingers along the intricate lines of the column and Jacob was immediately tempted to pull her away. Anything that glowed and pulsed like it was alive wasn't exactly the kind of thing he would fondle. But Mia acted like she had done it before and grazed her fingertips with careful reverence.

“The memory of the Shroud, right here....” Her voice had lowered to the point where Jacob struggled to hear her, so he stepped closer. “Before that day, this pedestal was just another hunk of stone. A relic, of course, but there was nothing distinctive about it.” She looked up at them, her brow furrowed. “The Murdochs had found the key to finding these things, guessed that the conduits channeled some power, but they hadn't the slightest idea of why or what any of it was for. They just _were_.”

She straightened up and her eyes brightened up as she looked from one to the other. “Until _that_ day, when this room lit up like the inside of a diamond, and this pedestal came to life.”

Jacob cringed inwardly as she used the same words he'd just been thinking.

“A massive amount of energy was simply funneled to _this_ point, and the pedestal has been emitting a glow like this ever since. I think it _stored_ it, for nearly ten years.”

Evie and Jacob turned to the pedestal again, seeing it in a new, more threatening light. What kind of device needed the sun to power it?

Evie was the first to pry her eyes away. “What is it _you_ think this is, Mia?” She asked the question uncertainly, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. Jacob echoed the sentiment as they both held their breathe and watched Mia step towards them.

“I have reason to believe it's a Forge of Eden. That it _creates_ Pieces. That pedestals like this created all the Pieces in the world today and this _particular_ spot created the Shroud that you and Starrick have been fighting for.”

“A Forge?” Jacob said in shock. “You mean those _things_ can be made even now?”

“Yes, I think so?” Mia said meekly, clearly not expecting an outburst from him. “It would take a massive amount of energy to make one, and properly channeled, the sun is the only possible source.”

“Goddammit!” Jacob yelled. He wheeled on Evie. “You're abnoxiously well read, Evie! How could you not know these things existed!”

“Shut up, Jacob! This thing has to be destroyed, Mia!” Evie exclaimed. “If this fell into Templar hands there would be no end to the power they'd have!”

“But it's in assassin hands!” Mia objected defiantly. “We have the knowledge of what powers these pedestals, and with those dates, now we know _when_! _They_ don't!”

“For how long!? This is worse than any Piece of Eden, worse than the Shroud! They could create _anything_ that could _do_ anything!” Evie shot back.

“You don't think I've _tried_? The blasted thing doesn't even _work_!” Mia shouted back. She shrank back immediately as the words escaped her lips and the shock spread over their faces.

“You've _tried_?” Evie asked in astonishment.

Mia was suddenly breathless and she slowly crumbled to the ground, her hair shielding her face. “It's not what you think,” she urged quietly. Jacob made a move towards her, but Evie grabbed his arm, her lips a thin line as she firmly shook her head.

Jacob glared at Evie hotly and yanked his arm away to crouch beside Mia. He had to hear her out, give her the benefit of the doubt. He didn't know her well, but he had every reason to believe she was innocent of any hostile intentions. She _had_ to be.

He pulled her close and moved to sit on the floor beside her. She buried her face into his shoulder and stayed silent as they waited for her to explain herself.

“I know what the Pieces have done. I _know_ what they're capable of,” she started slowly, pulling away to reveal eyes swimming with tears that threatened to fall. She addressed Jacob directly, rightly guessing he would be her most sympathetic ear right now. “I know what happened to Altaïr and Ezio, and everything they did to keep the Apple out of Templar hands. I'm not stupid.” She sniffled hard and looked wretched as she continued. “But those Pieces were _found_ and _created_ with contempt for humanity. To bring us and keep us low.”

She turned to face Evie now, who remained stoney and stoic. It was a strange role reversal for the two of them, to be sure. “I'd hoped that with the proper intent, I could make one that _helped_ humanity. If I could just _believe_ I could make one that neutralized hostility or aggression, it would come to pass through me and into a new Piece.”

Evie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes down at her. “You seriously think willpower made these Pieces... _do_ what they do?”

“Why not?” she asked wide eyed. “Their capabilities are as diverse as the Pieces _themselves_. And Pieces behave according to their _wielder's_ intentions, if they can manage it. The same Apple Rodrigo and Cesare Borgia used was the one Altaïr used to rebuild the Brotherhood and change it for the better. How else could the First Ones turn an abstract thought and _imbue_ their intention into an object _anyone_ could wield?”

“Magic?” Jacob asked lightly, and he smiled thinly as he ran his hand through her hair.

“Faith is a powerful thing, Jacob. It might as well be magic. We only know a fraction of what it can do and it's enough to save the dying or start a crusade that millions will die for.”

“So what? You tried to imagine peace and what happened?” While her voice was still hard, Evie seemed genuinely curious now.

“Nothing,” Mia said miserably. “Nothing happened. I placed objects on there, a box, fabric, a pen!”

“It _is_ mightier than the sword, ” Jacob said with a small smile.

“Exactly! Non-hostile objects, objects of knowledge! I even put a few Buddhist sutras on there! But nothing happened!” She looked at the pedestal bitterly, as if it mocked her on purpose with its steady pulse. “Nine years and _nothing_. But then... who am _I_ ,” she muttered resentfully.

It was in that moment that they all heard the unmistakable metallic click of multiple guns being cocked, and their heads snapped towards the direction of the sound, the direction of the entrance.

“I've been thinking the same thing for _years_ , Mia,” said a familiar, haughty voice from the darkness.

A lamp flared to life and Stanton's face glowed in the darkness, as well as the faces of the same three men from the party. They were clearly his most trusted lackeys. And they each had two guns pointed at all of them, six in total.

“Who are _you_? Not a friend of the Order, _clearly_ ,” he drawled, a crooked smile twisting his lips. “No, no, don't get up for my sake. ”

Jacob and Mia abruptly stopped moving as Stanton took one of his men's guns and the man pulled another. Seven then. Jacob felt mildly flattered that they'd bring an _arsenal_ for little old them.

“I rather like you looking up at me. In fact, Miss Frye, I'd like you to join them. No hopping around for any of you.”

Evie didn't make a move. She stiffened and simply radiated rage, her assassin's blade detracting with the clean ring of metal. Stanton laughed as he leveled his gun at her head and took a few casual steps towards her.

“Now, now, one doesn't bring a knife to a gun fight, Miss Frye. Do have a seat.” He gestured with his gun once more and Evie backed up to sit beside Jacob, her eyes spouting fire.

“I thank you for making this invariably easy for me, Mia. Did you think Starrick was the only one watching? And did you _actually_ think I would tell him?”

He flashed a wicked grin and kept his gun idly trained on them as he stepped towards the pedestal. “So _this_ is it, then? The Murdoch's great mystery, Piri's final treasure?”

He crouched down to look at the intricate design in the light but kept a respectful distance. While his gun was lazily aimed at them, his three men stood as intent as a firing squad with a single minded focus.

“No,” Stanton continued quietly. “Starrick can keep his Shroud. I imagine there are better things in store here. Ways to end our little war once and for all.”

“A horde of mindless rabble is hardly a way to end a war, Edward,” Mia said hotly.

“Of course. That's why I wouldn't start there. You have to first eliminate the threats before expanding a great empire.” He was entranced by the pulsing glow of the pedestal, and he responded to her distractedly, lost in whatever thoughts mad men ponder over.

Jacob saw Evie shift slightly in the corner of his eye. Her long coat covered her legs as she adjusted from a sitting position to an extremly low and coiled crouch. Jacob was tempted to do the same but he was perhaps a little less graceful at being discreet. Just a _little_.

Instead, he eyed the three men who wisely kept a safe distance from them and his fingers twitched to reach for his smoke bomb. It would buy them the precious seconds they needed to overcome them but Stanton would still be out of it's range.

“Just imagine... to have anything I want,” Stanton continued to muse. “A bit of mindless aggression, pitting brother against brother.” He smiled over at them and straighted to his full height. “Brother against _sister_. Perhaps some shameless torture, eh, Miss Frye?”

“I don't know what you think you're going to do, _madarchod_ ,” Mia spat, and Jacob noticed that she too had coiled like a cat about to pounce. “Piss on it? Ten years and I haven't gotten it to work.”

Stanton laughed and drew out a scroll case identical to the one still tucked away with Evie. He twirled it around his fingers carelessly and grinned.

“Only you would try to solve a puzzle without all the pieces, Mia. Unfortunately for you, you _are_ no one.” His grin faded quickly as he turned to Evie and Jacob. “It's more unfortunate that even _I_ require the assistance of your two new friends.”

He leveled the gun towards Evie's head and Jacob instinctively moved between her and the barrel. “It's beautifully poignant how you found yourself drawn to this mystery, Miss Frye. That you knew nothing when you invaded my home is still a wonder to me. I suppose it would be too much to ask for the numbers written on the other half of this map?”

He asked it so conversationally, like he truly thought a Evie would answer. Her glare and grimace were enough of a response. “I thought not. It hardly matters, this little masterpiece appears primed and ready.”

“You knew there was a Forge here?” Evie spat. “You eluded to it in the library.”

“Of course I knew. I make it my life's work to know these things, Miss Frye. The where and how of it were my biggest questions. You've helped me answer the one, and I already knew the answer to the other.”

He waved the scroll tauntingly like a victory flag before them, smiling smugly.

“What this tells me is that only the First Ones had the means to make Pieces. Security measures, I suppose, from situations just like _this_ ,” and he gestured dismissively towards Mia. “Something precious in their very _blood_ , something that is out of my reach.”

He cocked his gun and stepped close enough to push the barrel directly at the back of Evie's head. Jacob tensed as he saw his opening to strike. “Your diluted, _polluted_ blood will have to do, I'm afraid. Unfortunately for you, nothing explicitly says I need you alive.”

What followed next happened so fast Jacob hardly had a chance to get his bearings. Evie ducked down quickly and spun around with ferocious speed, the blade from her gauntlet flashing and slicing through Stanton's arm even as he fired aimlessly at the floor in front of her. His gun cluttered loudly to the floor just as a bullet from one of the men whizzed by her left ear.

In the same instant, before gunfire could shower them, Mia's hand was in his coat and she grabbed whatever bomb she could get her fingers around. Her arm snapped out and smoke instantly filled the space between the three men.

Guns shot off blindly, ricocheting against the floor and walls as Mia sprang into action, Jacob close behind.

It was in the dim glow of lantern light that Jacob saw Mia's small slight figure go to work as an assassin for the first time. She was as graceful as a dancer, stepping lightly out of the way of the first man's flailing punches as he chocked on the smoke. She was brutal, striking her blade across his stomach, and as he howled in pain, she slashed across the back of his calf until he toppled to his knees. With a swift motion of her leading arm, her blade flashed out, and she punched down on his face to send her blade smoothly between his eyes.

The smoke was already clearing and the second and third were both huge and quick. A gun rang out and Mia easily dodged the bullet until Jacob made swift work of the second man, kicking his knees in from behind and sending his own blade through the back of if his head. Mia gained the upper hand against the third, a man at least a hundred pounds more than her, and he soon lay face down on the ground as blood gurgled out of his throat.

Barely breathing hard, they both looked up to see Evie stepping towards Stanton with her own pistol drawn at his head. He sat crouched on the floor, his gun raised shakily up at her with his left hand as his right bled profusely onto his clothes and floor. There was no telling how many bullets he had left with the cacophony that had showered their swift fight but it was a minor miracle that none of them had been shot.

“Who else knows about this, Stanton!” Evie demanded.

His face was a twist between a grimace and a grin as he leered at her from the ground.

“There's always men like me, Miss Frye.”

“Who?” Evie shouted. “Names! You didn't tell Starrick, but you're too wretched to keep this all to yourself!”

“And then what? You think you can just stop this by killing us?” Stanton growled. “You think the entire Order won't find _more_ of these and fight you, tooth and nail, to take possession of them?”

“We'll always be here, Edward. And they won't have this one, or their sniveling expert,” Evie said more calmly, cocking her gun. “It's not your turn to play God.”

“No, it's not. But the assassins won't play either.” His gun swiveled quickly and the dual blast of both their guns rang in Jacob's ears. Edward Stanton immediately fell to the ground, stone dead.

“Jacob?” Mia's voice came out quiet and curious and he turned to see her looking down at her dark shirt, her hand slowly moving to touch a spot at her stomach and coming away frighteningly red.

Everything after that moved in slow motion. His legs moved heavily like he was dragging them through muck and mire and he held his breathe as he watched her crumble to the floor. He heard his voice yell her name, felt his body crouch down beside her as he cradled her head in his lap.

 _No, no, no._ “Mia?” He brushed her hair from her face, and looked down into her dark eyes, staring at him wide in fright. “You'll be alright, Mia. We'll get you out of here.”

Evie crouched by his side then, taking her hand. “I'm so sorry, Mia. I should've shot him. I should've just shot him.” Evie's eyes swam with tears, her voice cracking as she took Mia's hand.

“You did,” she said quietly, still looking at Jacob. “I was so worried I'd die a Templar. This is nicer.”

“You're not dying, Mia,” Jacob urged forcefully, willing it to be true. “You're _not_.”

Evie put a comforting hand in his arm, her eyes trained on the wound that was quickly worsening as blood seeped through Mia's fingers. “Jacob. There's nothing we can do. We can't take her out of here, the passage is too narrow. It would be too hard on her. She's bleeding too much.”

Jacob tore his eyes from her face to look down at the wound at her stomach. Such a small thing that should've been nothing, but instead was the end of everything. So much blood....

“Blood.” Jacob eyes snapped to the pedestal, and his eyes widened frantically. “Evie. Blood.”

He slipped out from under Mia's head and stood. “What are you doing?” Evie demanded. “Don't leave her.”

“Give me the scroll,” he demanded urgently. He held his palm open, waiting. When Evie just stared at him blankly, he slashed his palm quickly with his blade and let his blood flow freely to pool in his palm and onto the floor. “Scroll.”

Evie inhaled sharply. “You can't. You don't know what will happen, Jacob! We don't even know if Stanton was right! I can check the scroll he had--.”

“There's no time! Scroll, Evie! Now! I'm not going to just _sit_ here and watch her _die_. Please!”

It was either the desperation in his voice, or the desperation in his whole countenance she had never witnessed before, that he had never _felt_ before, that made her reach into her coat and hand him the scroll.

“Jacob,” Mia whispered. “Be careful.” She sighed softly and let her head roll off to the side. “Make it count.”

 _Make it count, make it count_ , he chanted as he walked over to the pedestal that continued to pulse and glow. _Heal. Life. Health. Heal her. Give her life. Make her healthy_.

He stood before the pedestal all to quickly, and his mind went utterly blank. He didn't know how to do this. How did one _intend_ something hard enough? How could he _wish_ a thought to life?

His blood covered the outside of the intricately decorated scroll case. He closed his eyes and took a deep breathe.

And thought of her.

Of her easy laughter and quick smile. Holding her in the darkness and hearing her steady, calming breathe. The way her eyes lit up and how she bounced on her heels when she got excited.

Of her entering his car earlier that night, promising a new future that he could have with her when this was all over.

Of the man he could be for her. The stories they could share. They knew so little about each other and he still wanted to know so much morr.

Of the peace that she brought him, that stilled his rebellious heart and soothed his mind, something he only felt standing high above the city on the dome of St. Paul's. The only place he felt the grandeur and beauty of the world.

Of the way the world slipped away, repeating some distant refrain of madness and chaos that they could ignore when they were together.

Happiness in the dark. A future in the light.

And so he willed her to live. Willed with all his strength for everything that could be.

He placed the case upon the pedestal and stepped away quickly, holding his breathe as he watched and waited.

The pedestal brightened immediately, surging to life as if some immense long awaited connection had finally been made. The ground shook and the light from the pedestal blinded him so keenly, like the sun itself, he had to shield his eyes.

The room was quaking violently now, emanating from the pedestal itself and reverberating underfoot. Jacob saw glimpses of the long forgotten city spring up in ghostly shadows around him, shimmering and disappearing for a split second as the light from the pedestal shot upwards into the domed expanse of the room overhead.

It was only moments before the light from the pedestal faded and the scroll case glowed with an ethereal golden light, yet the room still quaked as violently as ever and Jacob staggered.

“Jacob!” Evie yelled over the sound of the deafening rumble that wouldn't cease or diminish. Jacob stumbled to the pedestal and grabbed the scroll case.

A Piece of Eden. He didn't have time to think of the magnitude of it all as he stumbled back to Evie and Mia.

“Jacob,” Mia muttered. “I don't think....”

Jacob held the case close to her, the halo of light casting her features in an golden glow, and hoped something would happen, that _anything_ would happen. He uncurled her bloodied hand and placed the scroll in her fist. “This will work. It _has_ to work!”

“Jacob, the room is coming down!” Evie yelled. Jacob looked back and saw that the pedestal had shattered into a heap of unrecognizable stone. “Jacob!”

He paid her no heed as he squeezed Mia's hand and watched intently as her breathe grew more shallow, her eyes more distant.

“Come on, Mia. Heal! Live!” he yelled.

Blood had come to her lips, and her fingers loosened around the scroll until Jacob had to hold it to her chest. Her eyes held a pure peacefulness that Jacob would never forget. “Find peace, Jacob, in this mad world.” She reached up to brush her thumb against his lips and smiled faintly. “Thank you, for everything.”

She took another shallow breathe and closed her eyes slowly. Her chest stopped moving, her body utterly still.

“No, no, no! Mia! It's supposed to work! Why didn't it work? Mia!”

A loud crash resounded behind them as a piece of the great black stone fell from the ceiling above.

Evie grabbed Jacob's shoulder and forced him to look at her. “Jacob, I'm so sorry! She's gone! We have to go! We'll be trapped here!”

Jacob shook free of her grasp and leaned down to press his cheek against Mia's warm face. “No, no,” he whispered. “It should've worked. I wanted it so badly.” His lips brushed hers and he tasted the metallic hint of blood on his lips. “I wanted _you_.”

“We have to go! Please, Jacob!” Evie was forcibly tugging him now, and he finally let himself be dragged away as a piece of black stone slid down near them, shearing off the wall in a single great mass and shaking the room to make their teeth rattle.

His eyes never left Mia's body, lying alone and distant in the oncoming darkness. Alone and gone.

“I'm sorry, Mia. I'm so sorry.”

His eyes burned as Evie forced him into the tight passage before her and pushed him along as the room behind them crashed and collapsed with a cataclysmic finality, a piece of him disappearing into the darkness.


	17. Epilogue

There was a quiet tonight.

Not the kind from too much tension, like a string stretched too tight, waiting to snap.

This was a new silence.

Starrick was dead. Another vault. Another struggle.

Evie and Henry would remain. For a time.

To say England would be quiet now would be vastly delusional and Jacob knew in his heart that his roots would grow here, keeping a watchful eye on this little corner of the world.

The wind was crisp and cold up here, threatening the coming winter. The light of the stars were brighter and colder up here too, high on his vantage point on the pinnacle of St. Paul's.

Once full of beauty, they were only cruel and distant, reminding him tonight of other things too unattainable for the meer likes of him.

The Queen was finished with them, knighting them and promptly dismissing them as only a monarch could so easily do.

Evie and Henry had watched him move like a ghost for weeks afterward, aimless and quiet most days, volatile and angry on others. They had encouraged him to build a new Brotherhood in London. A suitable distraction, they said. A purpose for the lost and wandering children of London.

But what of the lost and wandering man?

He loathed the pity and worry he glimpsed when they thought he wasn't looking, so he reluctantly agreed.

His days drifted by in a haze, blending one into the other, mechanical and monotonous as any gear in a great machine was. Something had stilled deep within him. A solemnity and a solitude that clung to him like an unseen fog.

So he had gone back. Driven by some need for closure, he sought out the lone entrance in a forgotten alley and changed his beat for a few precious hours.

He didn't know what he would do when he found her. If he could give her some proper burial, into the sea, into the wind, something so he didn't always imagine her body lying beneath the cathedral, thrown away and forgotten.

It hadn't been easy. The room had come down in great sheets of stone and getting into the room had been hard and sweaty work. When he finally stepped into the gloom, the wreckage made the place unrecognizable.

With his sight on to guide him, he stumbled through the debris and searched. First he looked for her where he'd left her, pushing away stone and rocks, burrowing deep until he touched the ground with his fingers. Nothing.

He searched by the pedestal, not thinking about the impossibility of it. He had found Stanton's body, decomposed and under layers of dust and rock. As well as the bodies of the other three men.

But no Mia. No scroll. Stanton's was gone too.

 _She_ was gone.

He left then, unsure of what to think, what to believe, what to hope for. She wasn't here.

Which meant....

The wind whistled and howled, keening sharply against his face as he pulled his hood low over his eyes.

When he told Evie and Henry, their bewilderment had all too suddenly turned into excitement. Sir Jacob Frye had _created_ a Piece of Eden. They had thrilled and marveled and searched for ways to find more locations. Evie had found her new challenge, her new mountain to climb. Mia had known far more than them, but she had given them enough to start.

He didn't care for any of it. He only wished for her harder after that. He willed her back into his life everyday, every moment, seeing her around every corner and atop every distant rooftop. The relief of knowing she was alive had quickly turned into a painful regret. That he hadnt tried to bring her through the doorway with them. He hadn't even _tried_. It was a small wonder she never sought him out.

But the Piece _had_ worked. A Piece for health and healing, something good for once that this world sorely needed. If she would be it's bearer out there, he could live with that. It would combat every selfish desire to have her for himself, but he could _learn_ to live with that too.

And so the city of London spun on beneath him, a meer shadow of the city before it. A shadow of the city he had first entered, bright eyed and hungry for adventure.

Jacob Frye descended to the ground below with a new found silence in his heart, a stillness that would remain even as he walked the crowded streets of his new home, that wouldn't dissolve admist the roaring machinery that defined his era.

It was a silence that turned a boy into a man, that sobered the most reckless of spirits and stilled the most restless of hearts. This was the one kind of silence he knew would last.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! My first ever short (that turned out not to be so short) story! :-) That was amazingly fun and I hope you had fun reading! I've learned a lot about writing after this, but most importantly, your awesome kudos and comments gave me all the encouragement to make me want to keep at it!
> 
> Thank you, as always, for sticking around and reading this woman's wandering daydreams :-)
> 
> Keep working in the dark to serve that light! ;-)


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